The Broken Hearts Club
by City Girl Dreamer
Summary: The Bad Touch Trio have screwed over their boyfriends for the last time and not in the kinky way either! Now their respective EX-boyfriends have teamed up to deliver a dish so cold, it's bloody frozen: revenge. FrUK. Spamano. PruCan. AU. DISCONTINUED.
1. How To Get Your Heart Broken

**Kay, so this is my brand new story, that I really shouldn't be writing, but have done anyway~!**

**Totally fell for Hetalia. Like, head-over-ass...seriously.**

**So anyway, first chapters either suck, or they end up being the best, so god only knows how this will end up! ^_^**

_**Warning:** AU, Bad Touch Trio, fluff, angst, yaoi, abuse, cross-dressing, usage of human names, a lot of swearing, smut...probably, yaoi, unrequited love, yaoi. Let me make it clear one more time...YA-OI!  
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_**Disclaimer:**_ _After extensive searching of each DVD box, I found no contract declaring I was the owner of Hetalia...yet..._

_**Pairings: **FrUk, Spamano, PruCan, __Ameripan__, GerIta definitely and maybe some USUK, RoChu, Girikey, NetCan. Whatever else may pop up. DeNor, SuFin...yeah..._

**Edit: I'm revising all the chapters I have written so far and as a bonus, the ever so lovely** _ms. nightshade_** is beta-ing my chapters for me~! **

**ENJOY!  
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><p><span>Chapter 1 - How To Get Your Heart Broken<span>

"Wiiiith or wiithouuuuuut youuuu~! I can't liiiiiiive...with or withoouuuuut youuuuu~! OhhhhhhHHHHHH~!"

Normally, Arthur Kirkland had a _lovely _singing voice; one that would be simply perfect when singing this particular U2 song. However, Arthur is pissed, so naturally everyone in the world should forgive him for this folly. For once. Never again, as he was beginning to piss off the remaining customers at the bar and the bar-staff themselves as he had scared off the majority of their customers. It was only a tiny little pub and they had enough trouble keeping their customers as it is, due to inflating alcohol prices.

The customers they had managed to keep, however, were too drunk to actually notice the warbling, strangled cat who stood at the karaoke machine. They were too drunk to notice the boy who was currently pouring his heart and soul into a song that was being utterly and completely slaughtered. And if they did notice, then they were too busy cheering the boy on to acknowledge the fact that he was singing terribly and he was pissing off the bar-staff.

However, what no one knew, or understood, is that Arthur had a very good reason for getting pissed and for murdering a beautiful song by U2. The British boy did not go out every night just to get smashed and then slaughter whatever song the karaoke machine threw at him. Tonight was a 'special occasion' and the pub was also holding a 'buy one; get one half-price' offer on their beer. Arthur would have been a fool to not take advantage of either opportunities.

Despite the first opportunity involving his broken heart and his pathetic excuse of a boyfriend. Although, to be fair, to just call Francis Bonnefoy a 'pathetic boyfriend' would be going too easy on him. For a description that would be accurate, Arthur would have to include the words 'dirty' and 'French' and 'STI-ridden'. Because it's only what Francis deserves for ripping out his heart and shredding it into pieces. Regardless of the fact that, despite being a dirty Frenchman, Francis may not actually be STI-ridden.

Or, at the very least, he better not be.

If Francis _was_ STI-ridden, then Arthur should really get himself down to the nearest sexual-health clinic instead of murdering everyone in the vicinity with his drunken warbling. And if the tests did come back positive and Arthur did contract an STI, then Francis would have to prepare himself to spending the rest of his life as an eunuch. And Arthur wouldn't regret it not one bit. Even if he got sent away for GBH, the Brit would still be laughing his head off and telling everyone that the nasty little frog deserved it. In fact, said nasty little frog could go and choke on flies for all he cared.

Not that Arthur did care. No, not at all. He stopped caring a long time ago...five hours to be exact, when the alcohol kicked in. His body had become numb to the pain of heartbreak and his mind had clouded over with a nice fog of indifference. Naturally, when Arthur sobered up with a lovely hangover to greet him, he would probably care once more. But, time heals all wounds and all that. Arthur was sure that he would eventually get over it and move on with his life. Unless he did end up having an STI. Stuff like that would be hard to move on from if an ex-boyfriend gave you it. Especially if it was something terrible like herpes or crabs...and shit.

Fucking French wanker.

"Annnnnnd you giiiiiive yourself awaaaaaaaay~!" Arthur sang out his misery and his heart-break and poured his entire fucking soul into the song. Which could have been sung better, if Arthur was sober and emotionally stable. But Arthur isn't sober; and he never really has been emotionally stable. His three older brother could attest to that. And Francis.

Oh god.

Arthur injected ten times more gusto into the song as, once again, Francis Bonnefoy popped up into his thoughts. Ever since that night, Francis had been there, invading his every waking moment and even invaded his dreams. Or would they be called nightmares? Either way, Arthur hated the fact that Francis could still taunt him, even when he wasn't around physically.

And it all started on that one bloody night...

X-x-X-x-X

It was their first anniversary of being together and Arthur wanted to do something special. They had been dating for a whole year and neither bothered with celebrating the monthly anniversaries. Mainly because one or the other forgot or they were just too busy to do something. But the Brit knew that the annual anniversaries were different. He distinctly remembered how Alfred said that everyone celebrated their first annual anniversary because it was special. He also said that Arthur should most definitely celebrate seeing as no one had predicted that Arthur and Francis would have actually stayed together for that long.

So, after researching ideas and gleaning some thoughts from his friends, Arthur finally came to the conclusion that he should do something...naughty, for his boyfriend. Francis had always been the type of person who was up to doing anything in the bedroom, and despite all protests, Arthur had to agree with him. They both liked being adventurous and experimental, but there was one thing that they hadn't tried out yet. Mainly because both boys had too much pride in their Y-chromosome to actually want to do it and the inevitable arguments that followed just wasn't worth a night of being close together being missed out.

Normally, Arthur was way too prideful for this particular kink. His dignity allowed him to only go so far with certain kinks that Francis and he played out in their bedroom and that was only because Arthur was in control most of the time. Yet, he did love his boyfriend and this was a special occasion, therefore he forced himself to sacrifice both pride and dignity and decided to just go through with his idea.

His inspiration for his 'naughty' little present came from one of the many French nicknames that Francis had given him: _mon petit lapin_.

To this day, Arthur still failed to recognise how he resembled a bunny rabbit at all. The first few times of being called it, earnt Francis a sharp punch on the nose. After a while, Arthur just sort of gave in and accepted the sweet nickname. Not that he gave Francis one in return. Well, unless the French boy considered 'frog' to be loving and affectionate.

Anyway, after throwing his pride and dignity down the proverbial toilet, Arthur decided to muster up his courage and stepped inside a little sexy shop named 'Ooh la la~'. The shop was situated on the outskirts of the town that he lived in, so luckily he avoided any of the students that he attended the Academy with. Yet, it did take him several attempts and whiskey shots to actually step inside the shop, but he eventually managed to do it. As soon as he stood inside, however, he knew he had probably made an awful mistake.

The shop was a bizarre mixture of fluffy pink toys and jet black hardcore bondage equipment. The Brit quickly edged away from the darker side of the store and fumbled his way through the cutesy costumes and the toys that lined the other side of the shop. He recognised chocolate body paint, glow-in-the-dark condoms, scented lubes and—_ohbloodyhell_—the outfits.

Quickly glancing around, Arthur fingered a silky corset and hoped to God that no one saw him in here.

As it so happens, however, the Gods above hated Arthur and do like to mess around with him from time to time. Which meant that Elizaveta Héderváry, who had been voted 'Most Likely To Rule The World', two years running, spotted him immediately. The brunette had gotten a part-time job in 'Ooh la la~' and found it to be the best place to work in if you ever required blackmail.

And to see Arthur Kirkland, looking at skimpy outfits, was the most perfect opportunity for blackmail she had ever seen.

She crept up behind him and threw an arm around his shoulder casually. "If you want a corset, then I'd advice you away from anything pink. You'll look totally washed out and rather trashy if you ask me," she stated, as if she was reciting one the greatest laws of the world.

Arthur jumped and stared in horror at her, looking very much like a deer in headlights. "Oh...bollocks," he muttered, his face gradually getting hotter and pinker.

Elizaveta grinned at him, looking very much like a predator gazing at their prey. "Come with me," she said. "I know exactly what to get you."

She didn't really give Arthur any choice. As such, the British boy spent two and a half agonising hours being primped and gussied up; being forced to wear outfit after outfit. All the while, Eliza interrogated him on why he was buying this, who was he buying this for and for what purpose. It was, hands down, the most scariest moment Arthur had ever experienced with a girl.

And that included all the times his sister had tormented him when he was younger.

Finally, after she allowed him to leave, Arthur made his way back to Academy to complete his idea. An idea that had taken three whole months of his life away from him. However, he knew it was worth it and he was ready and willing to surprise his boyfriend. For the rest of the day, he had spent his time avoiding Francis like the plague, ignoring his calls and texts and even hiding in the girl's toilets to avoid the fancy French bastard. He wanted to starve his nympho-crazy boyfriend of touching him, hoping that tonight would lead to the best sex ever.

Besides that one time in Alfred's car, of course. And that other time on top of the washing machine when they had gone to the laundrette together. Oh, and that other time when they did it on the headmaster's desk. Which they do not talk about. Ever again. For certain, confidential reasons.

Ahem. Arthur was currently in his boyfriend's dorm-room, which was roommate-free for one whole night, courtesy of Lovino and Matthew. He had sent a text to Francis, informing him that he was needed in his dorm ASAP. That was half an hour ago. Normally, when Arthur sent such texts, Francis would come running straight away. His current standing record is ten minutes, thirty-three seconds.

Arthur felt for sure that after being avoided all day, Francis would have beaten that records, hands down. Unfortunately, Arthur was wrong and he hated being wrong. Almost as much as he hated cross-dressing. Which didn't happen much; only on Francis' birthday to be honest. Besides, the last time he had worn a dress, it had been a nurse's uniform and it covered him up a hell of a lot more than his current outfit did.

His current outfit consisted of a dark green baby-doll which had black lacing flowing up the sides. It cinched in at Arthur's waist and then flowed out into a little skirt which ended mid-thigh. Upon his legs, were a pair of fishnet stockings that came up to just above his knees on his shaven legs. Then on his feet, he had reluctantly bought a pair of small black heels with little white bows on them. Gloves that matched the shoes adorned his hands. To top off the outfit, he had a pair of bunny ears on his head and a little bunny tail pinned onto the back of the dress.

For the _pièce de résistance_, Arthur had handcuffed himself to Francis' headboard.

Arthur had always enjoyed tying Francis up, but never really had the chance, or the opportunity, to return the favour. Luckily for him, the handcuffs had been a freebie that came with the bunny ears and tail that he had bought at the sex shop. Eliza said that they would just make the night that extra bit 'feisty'...whatever that meant. He tugged on them experimentally, finding that the soft fluffy material eased the pain when he yanked on them sharply. He figured he's be doing a lot of yanking tonight and not just on the handcuffs.

Innuendo aside, Arthur leant against the headboard of his boyfriend's bed and surveyed the candlelit room. Francis shared the room with his two idiotic friends. His two idiotic and extremely messy friends. The Brit had the displeasure of having to clean up the room first before placing down the candles. Arthur adored candle-light and saw it as being so romantic to have sex with only candles lighting the room.

It was probably the first and last time that he and Francis had ever agreed on something verbally.

Smirking at the thought, Arthur shifted slightly, feeling the lace beginning to irritate his skin. He wrinkled his nose in discontent and vowed that the next time he and Francis had kinky sex, it would be the French boy who wore the skirt. Arthur didn't find pleasure in dressing like a girl at all. Nor did he find pleasure in shaving his legs. Arthur has enough trouble growing hair on his body, besides the hair on his head as it is. Sighing, Arthur silently swore to himself that never again, even on special occasions, would he allow Francis to dress him up as girl.

Never. Not even if he was drunk and made some crazy promise to Francis that he would. Never, ever again.

Plus, high heels were fucking _murder _to walk in. How girls could wear such ankle-breakers was a concept that was beyond Arthur's capability of thought. Sighing, the Brit waited for his boyfriend patiently, figuring that Francis was still probably looking for him. Yet as time went past, his arms were beginning to grow heavy. Ditto were his eyes. Fucking hell...he'd been stuck in this fucking position for ages. Glancing over at the clock, Arthur scowled and shifted. A whole twenty minutes had passed. Arthur had sent the text ages ago!

Unless Francis had turned his phone off; or it was just dead.

Still...where was he?

A little bubble of mixed worry, fear and anger grew in his stomach and he started to chew his lip out of anxiety. Arthur briefly eyed the key to the handcuffs on the bedside table and wondered if he was flexible enough to reach it with his legs. After all, being the boyfriend of one Francis Bonnefoy did have it's upsides...like the three-hour workout his body went through, six times a week.

However, just as he started to lift up his leg, he heard the tell-tale creaking of the apartment door opening. The Brit heard muffled footsteps coming towards the bedroom door and his heart began to beat quicker. He let his leg fall back down and his eyes widened in hope.

Crossing his legs demurely and trying to put on the sexiest pout he could muster, Arthur readied himself to be thoroughly ravished by his boyfriend. He felt utterly ridiculous, but figured that the inevitable sex would make up for it. And if it didn't, then he always had his ways of getting back at Francis. As the door slammed open, Arthur's heart skipped a beat as his boyfriend stumbled through...

His heart then stopped beating altogether when he saw Michelle stumble in a second later. His heart started to sink when he saw Michelle practically jump on Francis and started kissing him. Swallowing deeply, Arthur's mouth fell open when Francis' arms reached up and pulled her in close; the same way that he would often do to Arthur whenever the boy kissed him.

Arthur's heart all but broke when they kissed deeply. Like, tongue-in-each-others'-stomach-deep. He felt like ice had been poured straight into his veins and his entire body went numb. His head was screaming with angry thoughts and a loud ringing noise echoed in his ears. His hands clenched into fists and he finally felt that sharp pain as the handcuffs bit into his wrists.

Arthur tried to work his mouth into screaming at them, to shout at them, to fucking whisper...but all that came out was a croak. He couldn't find the words to get across the message of absolute agony and despair at getting a front-row seat to his boyfriend's betrayal.

It was only when they managed to acknowledge him being there, did he find his voice, and even then he didn't know what to say. It was rather awkward at first, obviously. Arthur just stared at his lap, whilst Francis stared at him in disbelief and Michelle just stared at them both.

"_M-Mon cher_...I...this is...what I mean to say is..." Francis started, eyes wide in shock and his face a perfect picture of horror. The French boy tried to find the words to console Arthur, but he failed drastically. After all, it wasn't like he could say 'it's not what it looks like', could he? Michelle on the other hand, took a horrified step backwards, her eyes wide and her mouth falling even wider as she took in the scene before her.

"You told me you were single! How could you do this to him! To me! You...you...you _fils de pute_!" she cried and slapped him before storming out of the room. Francis clutched his cheek and called out after her in jumbled French sentences. Her words stabbed Arthur deeply, and as hot, wet tears streamed down his face, he only managed to utter two words.

"Happy anniversary..." he whispered, his gaze burning into his lap. All that time, effort and embarrassment...wasted. Arthur couldn't believe it, didn't want to believe it. but all he could feel was the harsh stabs of betrayal as they spiked deep inside his heart telling him that this actually happened; this was real. He could hear Francis still arguing with Michelle out in the corridor. The French boy had gone after her instead of making his excuses with Arthur.

Oh god.

Clearly, some motherfucker really hated him up there.

X-x-X-x-X

"Annnnd you give yourself awaaaaay~! Annnd you giiiiiive and you giiiiiiiive and you fuuuucking wanker~! You dickhead! How bloody dare you do that to meeeeeeeeeee~!" the blond continued to wail, disregarding the fact that even the drunkest customers were beginning to get annoyed with him.

He also disregarded the fact that the song had actual lyrics that he was supposed to sing and instead decided to inject his own thoughts and emotions into it. Arthur Kirkland figured that he had a problem and dammit, the whole world was going to hear it! Whether they liked it or not and whether the message was comprehensible or not.

Either way Arthur had a right to drunkenly abuse the beautiful lyrics of U2, despite the fact that his 'right' was rather debatable. In his personal opinion, no one could doubt the fact that his reason for doing this was logical enough. Francis Bonnefoy, his boyfriend of _one __year_, who had chased after him for _two __years_, had cheated on him and destroyed their relationship in a matter of _five __minutes_. Unless, of course, Francis had been cheating on him for far longer than those five minutes. Oh God. Had Francis been cheating on him before that night? God knows. Did he know it was their anniversary that night? Probably not.

Whatever. What-the fuck-ever. Arthur didn't care anymore. Nope. He was totally over his bullshit ex-boyfriend. Arthur Kirkland didn't need Francis Bonnefoy in his life anymore and the world deserved to know that fact. Arthur had utterly and completely—

"Annnnd...annnd, if I eveeeer see you agaiiiiin~! I'll rip off your bollocks and shove them soooooo far up your arse, you'll be choking on your own foreskin for the rest of your liiiiiife~! Ahahahahahaha~!"

—moved on from Francis.

However, there were some people who weren't as sympathetic to Arthur's plight. For example, the two nasty looking doormen who had come in to see what all the racket was about, didn't look very pleased with the teenage boy who had chased off all of their patrons. In fact, they looked downright pissed off. They didn't care that Arthur's boyfriend had spectacularly cheated on him. They didn't care not one single iota. They only cared about their stupid pub losing stupid customers because they were too stupid to keep them.

They waltzed straight over to the karaoke machine and turned the thing off. They were rewarded with cheers and praise from the remaining customers that lingered around them. Arthur didn't notice and carried on singing, unbeknownst to the fact that he had been receiving naught but jeers for the past twenty minutes. The two doormen looked at each other and sighed. They always got stuck with the weird ones.

"Alright, get outta the pub, mate," Doorman #1 said, his deep voice cutting straight across Arthur's warbling. The British boy stopped singing abruptly, granting the two doormen before him with a viscous glare.

"Piss off! I'm Arthur-fucking-Kirkland! It's my God-fucking-given right to sing in this pub and so I shall fucking sing in this pub! There's nothing you two fucking wankers can do about it!" Arthur declared, waving the microphone in their faces victoriously. The drunken patrons cheered him on, despite the fact that they had been jeering and booing the boy just mere moments ago.

"..." Doorman #1 said.

"..." Doorman #2 said.

Thus, Arthur-fucking-Kirkland was kicked out and barred from yet another pub. He flipped the double doors off and started to shakily make his way back to his dormitory. The rain was coming down harsh and heavy and made the moping boy sigh at how typical the situation was. This was the fifth time he had been barred from a pub. The first time he had ever been physically chucked out though. Arthur snorted, he guessed he should e used to such treatment by now. No one loved him, or wanted to be his friend, or wanted to remain in a monogamous relationship because their slimy French fingers liked to wander.

He was rather, quite alone and there was only one person that he could blame.

So whilst the rain poured down on him, drenching him from head to toe, Arthur came to several conclusions. First of all, as he glanced into a shop window whilst walking past, he realised that he looked like a drowned rat when it rained. _Not _the most attractive look in the world. Second of all, rain is not his friend and there was a chance of him getting hypothermia if he didn't get somewhere warm now.

Melodramatic, he may be...but it really was fucking cold.

Thirdly, Francis was a dickhead who ought to have his dick cut off. The frog had embarrassed him, _hugely _embarrassed him and in front of someone else too! Therefore, he needed to die. Or have his dick cut off. Or something.

Whatever, Arthur just wanted to receive some sort of justice. And he hardly believed that the sort of justice he required would be found at a court or a police station. Vigilante justice just seemed so much sweeter in his eyes. Arthur would have to research it later at some point.

Straight after a warm shower, of course. And some pills to protect him from getting hypothermia.

All topped off with a late night call to Kiku, describing how pitiful his life—

"A-A-Achoo!" Arthur sneezed violently.

—had become.

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><p><strong>I always get dead nervous whenever I post a new story. <strong>

**So yeah~! Hope you liked it so far! ^_^**

**Plot bunny bit my ass outta nowhere, but it sounds good, right?**

**Oh...and BTW, don't kill Francis just yet...m'kay? ^_^**

**Perty please review! ^_^**

**Love City Girl**

**x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x**


	2. How To Get Your Heart Ripped Out

**O.O 10 favourites and 14 alerts already? GAH! AND THE REVIEWS TOO!**

**N'awwww~! You're too kind! ^_^**

**Seriously though, pretty please don't kill the Trio just yet!^_^**

**ENJOY!**

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><p><span>Chapter 2 - How To Get Your Heart Ripped Out<span>

"Oh? So you've finally noticed me have you? Fuck you!"

"Hey! Just wait a damn minut—!"

"I hate you! You fucking, horrible, nasty bastard! Who the hell do you fucking think you are? Bastard!"

"What the hell? What is wrong with you? Birdie, please...just listen for a second, why don't yo—!"

"Don't fucking call me that! Get the fuck out of my way and let me fucking leave!"

Those who were unfortunate enough to be the neighbours of the Bad Touch Trio, found themselves once again being disturbed by a lot of shouting and swearing. At first, they figured that it was just Antonio arguing with his little Italian lover. Again. However, Lovino's vocabulary was far more...inventive and creative when it came to cussing out his boyfriend. That and the lack of an Italian accent informed them that maybe this wasn't Antonio and Lovino.

Also, everyone and their dog knew that anyone who even dared to call Lovino a pet-name other than 'Lovi', would end up living the reminder of their life in a coma. And that's if he was being generous that day. Taking this information in, the neighbours of the Bad Touch Trio decided that perhaps this wasn't Antonio and Lovino arguing. But, it couldn't be Francis and Arthur either...the lack of any accent and the fact that they usually resolved their problems via sex, made the neighbours rethink their conclusions. It also made them rethink their questionable apartment choice and wondered if it was too late to transfer to another dormitory.

However, with two couples being removed from their suspicions, this left them with only one couple left. One couple that seemed so much sweeter than the other two. A couple that didn't swear or have sex or even throw things at each other. (Unless there was a hockey match on). One couple that utterly bemused them and left them with the question: 'How they hell did they get together?'.

Gilbert and Matthew.

To be fair, it was rather obvious considering that Gilbert only ever called one person 'birdie'. And only one person ever let him get away with it too. However, the person who was being called 'birdie' most certainly didn't sound like the boy that Gilbert was dating. That boy was sweet and soft-spoken, with a shy demeanour and a polite air about him.

Once again, it made the people who lived next to the Trio wonder as to why they were going out. It also made them wonder as to what the hell had happened to turn such a sweet and lovely boy into a swearing psychopath. They had never heard the boy react like this; not even when Gilbert had forgotten his birthday! So they figured that something _really fucking awful_ must have occurred to make Gilbert's boyfriend curse like Lovino.

What they didn't know was that the 'really fucking awful' something was Gilbert Beilschmidt himself.

Gilbert was the reason why Matthew was cursing up a storm. He was the unromantic, arrogant, forgetful, bastard reason as to why Matthew Williams, the sweetest boy you'll ever meet after Feliciano, had snapped. Gilbert has been his first and only boyfriend and he might as well be his last too. Fuck it. Matthew has had it with his ridiculous ex-boyfriend and he's pretty damn sure that he'll never have another one, so fuck it. Matthew's going far, far away to live in a monastery where his homosexuality will be repressed and he'll remain a virgin for the rest of his life.

Which sounds a hell of a lot better than being stuck with The World's Worst Boyfriend!

The Canadian knows that giving Gilbert that title may seem a tad melodramatic, but he really didn't care. Anyone who would judge him that can have a hockey stick shoved up their ass, because he has the right to flood the world with his drama until it bursts. 'Cause he has a shitty boyfriend. Ex-boyfriend.

Whatever.

X-x-X-x-X

At first, Matthew didn't really mind the fact that his boyfriend was a major flirt, unlike Arthur who ended up getting hurt and angry, and unlike Lovino, who ended up getting possessive and jealous. Matthew remained being the wall-flower that everyone ignored, except Gilbert. Sometimes. He never really minded it at the time, so long as Gilbert's attention was focused on him in the end.

Which it always was. It didn't matter if Gilbert had received fifteen phone numbers at the end of a night, as he would always chuck them in the bin, declaring that none of them were as awesome as his 'birdie'. Which Matthew appreciated, a lot. Despite the fact that Gilbert would practically blank him the entire night in favour of people who actually liked clubbing and dancing. Which are two activities that Matthew didn't really enjoy.

He hated nightclubs and getting drunk and having to pretend that he was having fun, when in reality he was feeling quite the opposite. He hated dancing because he absolutely sucked at it. Stick him on the ice and Matthew was as graceful as a butterfly; stick him on the dance-floor and well, there was a high chance of GBH occurring to everyone within ten feet of him. As such, Matthew normally lingered by the bar, drinking virgin cocktails and watching as Gilbert flirted and danced with everyone else but him.

Matthew forgave him though. He always did, 'cause he was that fucking nice. Alfred reckoned it was curse, being that nice to people. Matthew reckoned that Alfred should shut the hell up before the American boy had his mouth sewn shut for him.

However, even Matthew had a limit on how nice he could or would be. He had his limits on how 'innocent' and 'pure' he was. After all, there were many things that annoyed/angered him and if he had to pin-point one thing that annoyed him concerning Gilbert, then it would be the fact that romance was practically a foreign concept to the albino. Even when Gilbert first asked him out, he had let slip that it was by a dare. Not the most romantic pick-up line in the world, it must be said. Yet Matthew forgave him because he loved the albino bastard, flaws and faults as well.

Therefore, taking into consideration Gilbert's faults and flaws, Matthew really couldn't be blamed for allowing his hopes to get too high or letting his mind jump to conclusions whenever he saw any vague sign of romance upon the horizon. Such as spontaneous dates with Gilbert (that usually occurred when he had no one else to hang out with) and the many gifts the albino gave him (normally cheap freebies that you get out of magazines). But still, Matthew's heart continued to hope and his mind continued to jump.

A few days ago, Matthew's heart nearly jumped out of his throat and his mind overstimulated itself with thoughts and conclusions when he came across a little black box in Gilbert's dormitory. The Canadian had been looking for a hoodie that he had left there some time ago and when he found it, he found another surprise wrapped up in the folds of it.

The box was black velvet, with silver trimmings along the edges. It was small and could fit into his palm and Matthew, with his overactive imagination, knew that there was a ring inside. He turned it over in his hands and stroked the velvet softly, wondering if he should open it. After all, it might not be a box with a ring in it. Although...it awfully looked like the sort of box that was often seen in rom-com movies, when the guy proposed to the girl and everything exploded into ribbons and rainbows and happiness. Biting his lip, Matthew tried to not read too much into it. After all, a ring in a box didn't immediately mean what...well, a ring in a box normally meant. And it might not even be for him, too...

However, Matthew did have an overactive, creative imagination. When combined with the hopes that his heart had and the fact that his mind often jumped to conclusions at the nearest sign that Gilbert was doing something romantic and...well, the end result wasn't very pretty. Matthew found himself humming the 'Wedding March' under his breath whilst planning what sort of cake they would have in his mind.

Which is bad. As Matthew didn't even like cake and he didn't even like weddings either. Yet he couldn't prevent himself from that tiny, immature train of thought that led him to believe that this ring was for him. Which in itself, is the oddest present Gilbert had ever thought of. If it was for him anyway. Gilbert Beilschmidt was the, focus on the '_THE_', worst romantic in the world. In fact, the most romantic thing Gilbert had ever done was to cover himself in maple-syrup and wait on Matthew's bed for the Canadian to come back from work to.

They didn't even do anything that night because Matthew was too busy having a panic attack over how to get maple-syrup stains out of his bed sheets.

Anyway, Matthew's hopes had risen like the proverbial phoenix and he had spent the remaining day wondering when Gilbert would give the ring to him. If it was for him. Which, in all honesty, it better had be. It's not like Antonio was going to propose to Lovino. Again. And Francis and Arthur weren't even sure that they would last long enough to even consider marriage. So, surely the ring was for him. Plus, it might not even be an engagement ring, so he really didn't even know why he was worrying. Unless...it was an engagement ring and Gilbert somehow thought of the insane idea of proposing to him. That's when Matthew started to worry. After all, he was only sixteen and wasn't that illegal or something in the UK? Didn't he need parental consent to get married? Which would never even happen anyway, considering how over-protective his mother was and the fact that she didn't even like Gilbert to begin with. Then there was Alfred. God, his brother would fucking kill him, then resurrect him, only to make him watch as Alfred then murdered Gilbert. Slowly.

Which really isn't fucking good!

What made everything worse, was that Gilbert never even brought it up. There were no signs that he was hiding something from Matthew and made no hints towards the fact that he was going to present Matthew with the ring. He acted in the same way as he always acted. Matthew was close to just giving up and forgetting that he had ever seen the ring when, during after a date with Gilbert, everything just turned to shit.

The date had started simple enough, with Gilbert bursting into Matthew's apartment unannounced and demanding that the Canadian spend the day with him. Matthew was still in bed at this time and could only respond with an incomprehensible moan, which Gilbert translated as a screaming 'yeah!'. After yanking the poor boy out of bed and harassing him into making Gilbert breakfast, the Canadian found himself being forced out of his apartment with Gilbert listing off all the things they were going to do that day.

The first thing they did was head straight to the shopping centre; specifically, they headed over to the arcade. Apparently some kid called 'THE-BAMF-HERO' had beaten Gilbert's high score of the 'Resident Evil' shooting game. Matthew didn't bother mentioning the fact that the guy who beat the score was probably his own brother. There was already enough testosterone-fueled aggro between the two boys. Matthew really didn't need any more added to the pile.

So, like the perfect wall-flower, Matthew watched as Gilbert failed time and time again at trying to beat Alfred's high score. The Canadian would have found it amusing, if it weren't for the fact that Gilbert hadn't brought any money and the money he was using had been donated to him by the small gaggle of female admirers that surrounded him.

Matthew sighed and leant against a _DDR_ machine, resigned to the fact that Gilbert would probably take forever and that it was best for the Canadian to just wait it out.

And wait it out he did. He spent most of the time people-watching and the rest of the time observing how fast the group of girls would offer up their money. Normally, Gilbert would be quite wary of girls. When he was drunk, it didn't matter what gender they were as long as they were dry-humping his leg. However, Matthew noted just how relaxed Gilbert was around them and figured that the albino was just too zoned into the game to notice what gender his admirers were.

"Fucking hell!" the albino cursed, hitting the machine with the plastic gun in his hand. Matthew snorted as he observed the leader board.

1. 'THE-BAMF-HERO'.

2. 'Prussian God'.

3. 'Prussian God'.

4. 'Prussian God'.

Matthew couldn't help but note that he was a magnet for guys with huge egos.

"That's it. Fuck this shitty machine and fuck this crappy arcade," Gilbert growled, before throwing the gun on the floor with a glare and turning to storm out of the arcade. Noticing that he was surrounded by girls, Gilbert wrinkled his nose and looked around to find Matthew waiting for him against Antonio's _DDR _machine. It was Antonio's because it was the only game that the Spaniard could play without his concentration being broken by something else. That something else usually involved a foul-mouthed Italian brat.

Gilbert smirked and sauntered over to Matthew.

"Come on," he grinned, throwing an arm around Matthew and pulling the Canadian in close. "Let's get out of here before they realise that they just wasted their time and money on a guy who's already taken." The fact that Gilbert acknowledged himself as being 'taken' made Matthew forgive him instantly. They strolled out of the arcade grinning; Gilbert because he conned a lot of people out of their money and Matthew because he was somewhere up on Cloud Nine.

They continued walking along the streets of the shopping centre, completely minding their own business. Gilbert was doing all the talking, whilst Matthew quietly, but happily, listened to him . It was a perfect bubble of peace. However, the bubble that surrounded them burst when a voice called out to one of them loudly.

"Hey Gilbert!"

Matthew frowned as he heard a voice call out in the middle of the shopping centre and turned around to see who it was. He furrowed his brows as he realised that he couldn't find anyone and shrugged, returning his attention as Gilbert tugged him along the street. The albino was raving about a new music store called 'Download' that had opened up. The Canadian really wasn't taking in all the little details of Gilbert's rant; instead, he listened to Gilbert's voice itself. The albino, with his accent and his unique way with words, always made Matthew feel more content whenever he listened to it.

"OI! Gilbert!"

His moment of peace was shattered when the voice returned. Even Gilbert turned to see who was calling out to him. Wrinkling his nose, Gilbert glanced down at Matthew and quirked a brow.

"Now, I know I could be considered slightly crazy, but please tell me you heard that voice as well," Gilbert asked him. Matthew really wanted to say 'no'. He really wanted to be selfish and keep Gilbert to himself just that little bit longer. But no...he couldn't. Because Matthew just wasn't like that.

"No," he said. "I heard it too. You're not going crazy. Well...crazier, at least."

Gilbert smirked and flicked Matthew on the ear gently. "You're turning into a cheeky little brat, aren't you? Maybe I should teach you how to respect your elders," he purred, running a hand through Matthew's blond curls teasingly. The Canadian blushed and pushed him away sharply.

"You don't even know how to spell 'respect'," he sniped back. Gilbert laughed loudly, jostling the small bird that resided in his hair.

"Birdie, everyone knows how to spell respect!" the albino proclaimed. "Or do you really want me to sing it out loud and in public?"

"N-No! No, please don't! You've embarrassed me enough for one day," Matthew teased him. Gilbert gaped, clutching at his chest as if Matthew had caused him a great deal of unforgivable pain.

"You hurtful little bra—" Gilbert began. But he didn't finish...someone interrupted him.

"Hey freak! I've been calling your name for ten whole minutes now! Pay attention to me!"

This time, Gilbert did see who was calling out to him. This time, Matthew knew exactly who it was too.

Matthew had hoped it wasn't who he thought it was, but one look at Gilbert's delighted expression caused those hopes to crash down as well. Running towards them, with a massive smile on her face was Elizaveta Héderváry. She was beautiful and fun and lovely and, in Gilbert's eyes, she was the only girl worth being friends with. Apparently Gilbert had this fear of all things female. Matthew just figured that the albino had a bad experience once and never really got over it.

Elizaveta was Gilbert's childhood friend, and perhaps the only person that could make Matthew jealous. It wasn't like she was doing it on purpose; she was just too nice to be pulling that kind of shit. Plus, she did have her own boyfriend; not to mention the fact that she'd much rather have Gilbert gay than hetero and be going out with him.

Yet there was something there, between the two of them, that made Matthew's stomach twist uncomfortably. His throat always went dry and his hands automatically clenched whenever he caught them together. Which was stupid, because he knew that Gilbert liked him and he knew that Elizaveta would rather die than date someone who she considered to be an almost brother to her. But the thoughts still ran around his mind.

And they just wouldn't stop.

"Hey Lizzy! You're looking totally fine and awesome today. How are you?" Gilbert called back, waving to her wildly. No one would ever know, but Elizaveta was one of the coolest people that Gilbert knew. And no one would know that fact because he planned on taking it to the grave.

Unfortunately, Matthew was one of those people who knew about Gilbert's secret. Not that the albino knew about that. Funny thing, Matthew always became somewhat invisible whenever Elizaveta was around, so the Canadian could see just how special she was to Gilbert. He often wondered if he ever looked like he was special to Gilbert. Of course, those hopes would die down quickly whenever his mind supplied him with the evidence that Gilbert would always pay more attention to those more attractive than he and more interesting as well.

Which hurt.

"Doing better than you hope! Oh, by the way, thank you for the ring. I had no idea that you would be so responsible enough and nice enough to actually do such a thing!" Elizaveta exclaimed, holding out her hand and wriggling her fingers. Sure enough, the ring was there upon Eliza's left hand and on her ring finger. Matthew had never opened up that box, but somehow he just knew that it was the same exact ring that he had found in Gilbert's room.

Matthew felt numb as he watched Eliza punch Gilbert playfully. He felt numb when Gilbert played along with her, smirking that smile and winking his eyes at her. He just felt numb. Everything was screaming at him to get angry, to get hurt, to cry or do something...but, as always, he just stood there and took it all in.

God. He had hoped so much that Gilbert would do something nice for him. Just him. Only him. Because he was Gilbert's boyfriend and that earnt him far more rights to a present or a special day out more than anyone else. Yet, once again, he had been left disappointed and his heart was left battered and beaten.

"So, how's your boyfriend?" Eliza asked sweetly. Matthew rolled his eyes and wondered if it was worth speaking up. Probably not. She'd probably get all surprised and then she'd wonder how long he had been stood there for and...oh god. It hurt so much. Matthew hoped that Gilbert would call her out on being rude or yell at her or chew her out or—

Gilbert just blinked. "Who?"

—something?

...

...

...

'Who'. Matthew hated that word much more than any other word in the English speaking world. It was Alfred's first word and the reason why he had said it because he had been wondering who the little blond child was in his mother's arms. It was the first word that anyone would ever say to him when he mentioned his name. The first thing that came to people's minds when they asked who Gilbert Beilschmidt was dating.

Never before though, had Matthew expected Gilbert himself to say it. Or, at the very least, say it in front of him.

Now, Matthew wasn't one to swear, but _f__uck_, did that hurt. He honestly felt as if Gilbert had destroyed all the trust and love and everything else he had felt for the albino. Everything was just slowly falling apart in Matthew's world and Gilbert didn't even know it. Just mere moments ago, the Canadian had felt so loved and protected in Gilbert's arms but now...now he just wanted to leave.

He just wanted to get away from Gilbert as soon as possible. Something had snapped inside the Canadian; something that had been slowly building over time and now Matthew just wanted to leave. To get away and be alone and sort everything out. Alone.

He stayed silent, allowing himself to become a wall-flower once more as Eliza and Gilbert hugged once more. They were so engrossed with each other, they hadn't even noticed Matthew slipping away back to the Academy. They hadn't noticed the single tear that slipped from his eye. Nor had they noticed the look upon his face as his heart finally gave way and broke. No, they just continued to talk and touch and smile, whilst Matthew retreated to his apartment to think.

The Canadian didn't really know why he was so upset. It wasn't the first time this had happened. There had been that expensive Rolex that Matthew thought was his birthday present, only to see it on Roderich's wrist a couple of days later. There was that necklace that ended up around Feliciano's throat, the roses that had been given to Francis, the chocolates sent to Antonio.

Gilbert was so freaking romantic and loving to everyone, _but him_. He always remembered everyone else, but him. When it came to romance, Matthew became invisible. When Gilbert was bored and on his own, due to his friends being out with their own boyfriends, suddenly he became the centre of Gilbert's universe. Matthew hated it. Hated _him_. The Canadian wanted more, he deserved more and he was sick and tired of having his feelings played around with by Gilbert.

He was sick and tired of being a fucking wall-flower.

X-x-X-x-X

Matthew had spent the past ten minutes in Gilbert's dorm-room, which was thankfully empty. He had been packing away all of the shit he had left in Gilbert's room: clothes, photos, a stuffed polar bear that he had given to Gilbert, that one time when he had to leave for a family trip in Canada...everything. It was perfectly normal to leave stuff behind in the Trio's room, and Matthew really wouldn't be surprised if he had accidentally taken something of Arthur's or Lovino's...yet right now, he couldn't care less. He wanted to remove his very self from the room and get far, far away from it.

Unfortunately, Gilbert had returned early, scolding Matthew for being so rude to Elizaveta, for ignoring her and not speaking to her.

This made the 'sweet, soft-spoken, lovely' Canadian snap. Normally, Matthew would avoid such confrontations and arguments at all costs, if they didn't occur on the ice-rink. However, this wasn't just any old argument. This was an argument that had been building up inside of Matthew, ever since he had heard his first 'who'. And now, with the perfect opportunity to just let it all out, Matthew was going to take full advantage of it.

Therefore, the Canadian told Gilbert where to shove it and the argument just escalated from there. Never before had Gilbert been faced with such an abnormality before. He had no idea how to handle a bat-shit crazy Matthew and to be perfectly honest, he didn't think that he even wanted to know how one would handle Matthew like this.

Therein, Gilbert went with his instincts. He shouted back.

"Hey! Stop being such a little brat and listen to me!" he spat, jostling poor Gilbird as he lunged forward to grab Matthew's arm to prevent him from leaving.

"Stay away from me!" Matthew cried, wrenching his arm free of Gilbert's grasp. Gilbird tweeted frantically, holding onto Gilbert's hair for dear life as he was jostled once more. The bird was shocked at such language coming from the Canadian but he was even more shocked at the fact that his master was shouting back at the boy with twice as much anger.

"Hey! Will you just cool it, you're scaring Gilbird! Don't fucking snap at me, just listen for a minute! _Mein Gott_!" Gilbert snapped, his red eyes burning with restrained fury. Matthew scoffed and shook his head. He was done with listening to Gilbert. It's all he did today. Just stood there, listening to Gilbert. And quite frankly, Matthew had had enough.

"Fuck you! Fuck you and your stupid bird, eh!" he hissed, eyes blazing with anger and hurt behind his glasses.

Gilbert froze and gasped, watching in shock as Matthew stormed out of the apartment. Gilbird chirped softly and fluttered down to nuzzle against Gilbert's throat, clearly hurt by Matthew's words. The albino absentmindedly reached up to pet the bird comfortingly on the head.

Gilbert, on the other hand, was far from hurt. He was fucking pissed.

_Oh no he didn't._

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><p><strong>Oh yes he did!<strong>

**So yah, the break-up of PruCan! Seriously, I believe that Canada has a lot of issues buried beneath that cute smile of his. A lot of issues. Angry ones.**

**Yeah. Bit iffy about this chapter, but I couldn't really see Matthew snapping at anything else but being ignored. That, and I already have one third of the Trio cheating, which is enough in my opinion. ^_^  
><strong>

**So, I wonder what's coming up next? Hehehe!**

**Thank you to: **_ultimatebishoujo21_**, **_Miggery_**, **_Yami-no-Hikari-7_**, **_Toolazytologin_**, **_ourouterlimits_**, **_Hetalian66_**, **_XXilikecatsXX_** annnnnd **_doujinshilover1516_** ! Your reviews made me so very happy! ^_^  
><strong>

**Perty please review!**

**Love City Girl**

**x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x**


	3. How To Get Your Heart Crushed

**^_^ I feel very, very loved! 19 favourites and 32 alerts already! Mwah! Mwaaaah!**

**Okay, so this chapter is perhaps the iffiest chapter I have ever written in my life. Like ever.  
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**Naturally you know what this chapter is about, and honestly, it was really, really hard to write. But I did. And it's sorta long.**

**Whatevs! **

**ENJOY!**

* * *

><p><span>Chapter 3 - How To Get Your Heart Crushed<span>

"_L-Lo siento_...I-I didn't...I mean that I...you just...and I just..." Antonio stuttered, his green eyes wide and fearful. He swallowed hard and stumbled back away from the Italian he had been pinning against the wall just mere moments before.

"You bastard." Lovino stated, eerily calm and monotonous.

They stood there, heavily breathing and staring at each other. Their thoughts ran along the same train-tracks and consisted mainly of one of two questions: 'What have I done?' and 'What the hell has just happened?'. They didn't voice their thoughts though, they were scared that the tense and delicate atmosphere that they've just created may break and everything will start hurting again.

Their fight didn't involve sexy lingerie, or loud screaming that would echo down the hallways of the dormitories. It did contain a lot of accusations and hurtful comments. The type of comments that took forever to get over and even longer to forgive.

Their relationship had reached the point wherein shit has hit the fan and it has hit _hard_. Antonio had long given up trying to stutter and stammer his way through apologies and just stood there looking very self-pitying. It was a rather unnerving sight to behold and Lovino decided then and there that he really needed to get the fuck out of there.

"I have to go. Now. Don't bother getting your hopes up, 'cause I might not come back." Lovino said, in the same eerie, calm voice that freaked Antonio the hell out.

The Italian slowly walked out of the room, not looking back or hesitating and closed the door behind him. He sagged against the wood, running a hand through his hair and across his burning face. He needed to get out of here. Stiffly walking down the hall, Lovino felt like he was on auto-pilot. Or a robot. Which would be more awesome, but totally inappropriate for this kind of situation.

As he reached the elevator, he pressed the correct button and waited. And waited. And fucking hell, he waited. The elevator was the slowest damn thing in this fucking building and Lovino needed to leave right this fucking minute, please. So, completely disregarding the fact that the elevator had just arrived at his floor, Lovino turned and sprinted towards the stairs, flipping off the elevator as he did so.

Fucking machines.

Lovino ran out of the building, cursing himself for being so idiotic and giving Antonio his heart so fucking freely. He fumbled in his pocket for the keys to his cherry-red Vespa and jumped on it, shoving the keys in and starting the ignition. He needed to get away, far away, only for awhile, but long enough to sort his head out. Being in the same building as Antonio would just suffocate him and make him even more fucking angry then he already was.

Jesus Christ on a motherfucking bicycle, was he angry. Like really angry, but also tinged with a bit of hurt that he had finally released after years of repressing. In fact, he couldn't even formulate a single word, in any language, that could express just how pissed off he was at the situation.

So, he ignored it.

Lovino pulled out of the Academy's car-park, cut off an oncoming car, sped through two red-lights and was off, speeding down the roads without his helmet on. Feliciano would actually have a genuine heart-attack if he had seen him. Which isn't really good, 'cause then he would have to deal with an angry German, and quite frankly, Lovino has enough on his plate without an uptight piece of wurst being added to it.

He already had his plate filled with a horrid tomato and a nosy piece of pasta. _Guuuurgle~_! Damn, he really needed to stop comparing people to food, it was making him so damn hungry. However, he wouldn't have been, if Antonio hadn't fucked up. They wouldn't have even broken up, if that damn Spanish asshole hadn't fucked up.

They would still be together, probably still on their date, with Antonio having fun and Lovino suppressing how much fun he was actually having. Alas, Fate had other ideas that involved breaking up the pair of them and turning Antonio into a...ah, what was that word Arthur used? Oh, a _wanker_. The biggest fucking wanker ever.

Full-stop.

X-x-X-x-X

Their date had started off easy enough. They had reached a compromise where Antonio would get to choose the place, just as long as Lovino would get to drive them there. By drive, what he really meant was that he threatened Antonio's very life by speeding through all the red lights, stop signs and even going onto the pavement to get there in time on his beloved Vespa.

Antonio did find an upside to Lovino's suicidal speeding, as he was able to wrap his arms around the Italian's waist without having his head bitten off. However, he couldn't enjoy for long as they had reached their destination far quicker than he would have liked. Antonio reckoned he brought it upon himself as Lovino absolutely hated being touched in public.

Their destination was a new fancy French restaurant that Francis, ever the patriotic romantic, had recommended for them. Unfortunately, Lovino couldn't speak a word of the fancy language and had to depend (even more unfortunately, in his opinion) on Antonio to translate for him. Even more unfortunately is that Antonio lied when he said he was fluent in the language. The only pieces of French he knew were swear-words and chat-up lines.

But Lovino didn't need to know that.

They pulled up at the restaurant and Lovino ran a critical eye across the building.

"It looks like Francis' wardrobe threw up on it," he snarked, getting off his Vespa and pulling his helmet off. Antonio pulled off his own helmet and handed it over to the Italian, sighing as he did so and pulling the Italian boy in close to him.

"Shhh, I know it looks frilly and fancy, but Francis did promise that the food was really good. And he is the one who's doing a minor in Culinary Arts," Antonio responded, kissing the Italian sweetly, causing Lovino to freeze and blush darkly.

It wasn't that he hated moments like these; it's just that...well, he did. He really, really hated PDA.

Lovino pushed the affectionate Spaniard away from him, rubbing his lips roughly. "Pervert! Let's just...go. 'Kay?" he hissed, marching off in the direction of the restaurant's entrance. Antonio hummed lightly and followed after him with a skip.

"Don't skip, you idiot! You'll look even more like a gay guy than usual!" Lovino cried, horrified as he watched Antonio overtake him and reach the front door. The Spaniard turned around and quirked up a brow.

"Even more like a gay guy, when I'm going on a date with a _boy_? Is that even possible?" he asked dryly. Lovino spluttered and hit him on the arm hard.

"Shut up you bastard! Just get us our table!" he snapped. Antonio laughed, shaking his head as he approached the _maître d'_ who had been watching them with veiled disapproval.

"Reservation for Férnandez-Carriedo," Antonio stated. Not asked, because he had called the place up seventeen times to make sure his reservation had actually be made. Lovino licked his lips nervously as he eyed all the other people around them. They were dressed in such expensive clothing and looked as if they belonged on the red-carpet. Antonio and he looked as if they had just been dragged off the streets, with their causal outfits, consisting of jeans and tee-shirts.

"Right this way..._sir_," the _maître d'_ coughed, eyeing them both with disgust. Neither of them took any notice and followed him to their table. Antonio tried to be a gentleman by pulling out Lovino's chair for him, but his chivalry was rewarded with a swift kick to the shins and the Italian taking the chair opposite.

The _maître d'_ tried to repress his heart-attack at such undignified behaviour. He handed them their menus and clicked his fingers to a nearby waiter, indicating that he was to serve the two boys for the rest of the evening. The waiter turned a couple of shades paler as he caught the look on Lovino's face and began to rapidly pray for the evening to go by quickly.

"So, you want me to pick your meal?" Antonio asked, picking up his menu and opening it.

"Obviously. Just remember, I'm a vegetarian, so don't go getting me any meaty shit, alright bastard?" Lovino drawled, glaring at the Spaniard as he absentmindedly read the menu.

"_Sí_, _sí_. I know," Antonio replied, waving his hand at Lovino. The Italian's eye twitched at the action and he folded his arms moodily whilst muttering about idiotic tomato bastards.

Their waiter for the evening fluttered over in a fashion that reminded Lovino of a certain fancy French bastard. This fact did not bode well with him and he sulkily slouched lower into his chair. Antonio rolled his eyes at him fondly and he gestured towards the menu. "I want that one, and he can have this one. Please?" he asked, keeping his tone charming and polite.

Lovino watched as the waiter took their orders, their menus and left. "What did you order me?" he asked suspiciously.

"A salad. That's alright, _sí?_" Antonio asked lightly.

"Yeah, yeah. Just so you know, this doesn't mean you get to order for me all the time! I'm not a girl you bastard!" Lovino snapped.

Antonio shrugged, his eyes crinkling at the corner as he smiled. "I wouldn't dream of it," he replied. Really, he wouldn't, because he knew that if he did, then Lovino would most definitely rip his balls off and Antonio rather liked them where they were.

They sat in comfortable silence, with Antonio gazing at Lovino with an expression that made the Italian highly uncomfortable. The sort of fuzzy, warm uncomfortable that any normal person would have enjoyed. He was thankful when their meals arrived, though, as it took Antonio's attention from him to the soup that he had ordered. Lovino was graced with a rather average-looking salad.

Lovino eyed the plate warily, glaring at the mixture of leaves and vegetables. It was very nicely spread out, but that didn't mean that Lovino found it appetizing. After all, the leaves were soaked in dressing, the vegetables looked overdone and the tomatoes...oh, the poor little red bastards looked a bit brown. Never before had he found a dish to be so insulting to the entire food world. Apart from that time when Arthur had tried cooking in the Trio's apartment.

"This won't poison me, right?" he asked, poking at a tomato curiously. Antonio laughed at him.

"Of course not! Francis promised me that this was the best of the best!" he said, beaming at Lovino with a beautiful smile and matching eyes. Lovino blinked as he found himself slowly getting sucked into the deep green color of Antonio's eyes and had to shake himself sharply to get out of it.

Antonio allowed a small smile to grow, knowing exactly why Lovino was flushing. Instead of calling him out on it, and risking possible physical damage, he sat there and waited for the Italian's reaction. Lovino chewed and swallowed slowly, finding it slightly unnerving to have someone watching him whilst he ate. Antonio didn't register the uncomfortable atmosphere and merely continued to smile sweetly at the Italian.

"Well?" he asked, tilting his head to the side. Lovino flushed at how innocent Antonio could look sometimes. Then he remembered all the times that proved Antonio to be the furthest thing from innocent and blushed darkly.

"It's okay I guess. I'm not dead, am I? Bastard..." he muttered, averting his eyes nervously. Antonio beamed brightly.

"_¡Bien!_" he said, clapping his hands together, whilst Lovino muttered about stupid people who felt the need to randomly insert their home language into conversations.

They continued eating in silence, with Antonio pausing to watch Lovino until the Italian told him to fuck off. It was a normal, lovely date. Or, at the very least, it was normal and lovely for them. They completely disregarded the stares they were getting from the staff and the customers around them; instead they just concentrated on each other.

Lovino found himself almost enjoying their little dinner-date and dug his fork deep into the salad, scooping more out into his mouth. As he did so, he couldn't help but note that something looked a bit wrong with the meal under all the leaves and dressing. Carefully placing the forkful of food into his mouth, he slowly began to chew.

Lovino paused in mid-chew. Something just didn't taste...right. "A-Antonio? What did you order me?" he asked, only to have Antonio tut at him for speaking with his mouth full. After all, it really wasn't an attractive sight and Lovino was just too good-looking for that kind of behaviour.

"Swallow Lovino. Ah, let's see...it was something _salade_, ehhh...something _a la lapin_. Why?" he asked, wrinkling his nose as Lovino spat the mouthful into his napkin. "That's not cute! Lovino, why didn't you just eat it?"

The Italian glared at him furiously. "Are you fucking serious?" he hissed, wiping his mouth roughly. "You ordered me something with _lapin_ in it? Can't you remember what _lapin_ is?"

Antonio blinked at him. _Lapin? Lapin, lapin, lapin...OH! That's what Francis calls Arthur! Why would Lovi~ get upset over that? Oh damn, did I order him something that contained _Arthur _in it? Ah, no...that's not what it means...lapin. Lapin...oh. Oh. No. Mon petite Lapin...oh god._

"Oh. Rabbit. Oh, Lovino! I am so sorry! I completely forgot!" he cried, his eyes quickly filling with tears as the reality of just how angry Lovino was with him hit him hard.

"No. You didn't forget, you just didn't listen. I told you I was a fucking vegetarian and you didn't...you just! Ah! You fucking bastard! Pay the damn bill so we can fucking leave before I upchuck all over this nice fucking restaurant!" Lovino stated, his voice dripping with anger as he gagged slightly at the thought that he had almost consumed a fluffy bunny-rabbit.

Normally Antonio would have found that quite arousing. However, he knew that this was not a normal situation and Lovino just might actually kill him if he were to try something right now. Worrying his lip, Antonio paid for the bill obediently, trying hard to ignore the intense death-glare that Lovino was giving him. They left the restaurant in silence and Lovino felt his heart drop a little at how nice it had all started until his boyfriend had to go and fuck things up.

When they reached the Vespa, Lovino swung his leg over and hissed two words at the Spaniard. "Get. On."

The rest of the ride was in silence, with Antonio holding onto the edges of the seat for dear life, too scared to touch Lovino in his current state. Lovino didn't care one way or another. He was just too fucking pissed off to even contemplate it. As they reached the school, they walked side-by-side in awkward, uncomfortable silence. Antonio glanced over at Lovino every so often, wondering whether he should say something or not. Yet, the angry, stiff movements of Lovino's body told him it was best to keep quiet.

As soon as they walked through the door to Antonio's shared apartment, however, Lovino exploded.

"You're such a fucking idiot! I told you I was a damn vegetarian before you ordered! How could you forget in that time period? Stupid bastard!" the hot-blooded Italian hissed out through gritted teeth, kicking Antonio's bed in fury.

Antonio sighed and ran a hand through his hair, hesitant to respond to Lovino's raging anger.

"Lovi, I really am sorry. I wasn't really listening and I—"

"No. You weren't listening, which led me to eat rabbit! Fucking rabbit!" Lovino spat.

"H-Hey, I remembered in the end, and it was just one bite—"

"One fucking bite too much!"

Antonio gave up and just slumped against the wall, waiting for Lovino to finish his tirade. He felt a small spark of annoyance towards the Italian, but tried to repress it in favor of remaining calm.

"Damn! You know, sometimes I wonder if you were dropped on your head as a fucking child, but then I remember how fucking stupid you are and it suddenly comes to me! You weren't dropped at all, you must have been thrown at a fucking wall, you're that retarded!" Lovino spat, shaking his head in despair.

"Listen, I said I'm sorry!" Antonio stated, his annoyance building. Oh, that boy may have had the patience of a saint, but even saints had their limits. Especially when faced with hysterical, ranting Italians.

"No! I won't fucking listen! See how you like it!" Lovino hissed, his eyes blazing with anger.

"Shut up..." Antonio whispered, his hands clenched into painful fists that drew blood from his palms. His eyes stung from unshed tears and fucking hell, he was not a happy boy. Not that Lovino noticed. Once he had gotten into a rant, he really went along with it.

"I kept telling you and telling you! Did you fucking listen? Of course not! You're so fucking stupid! How you got into this fucking school astounds me! Did you pay off the governors? Cheat on the entry exams? Or suck off the headmaster? 'Cause believe me, I wouldn't be surprised if you had done any of those fucking things!" Lovino carried on and on, not even noticing that he had strayed way off their original topic and was now just ranting about idiotic Antonio was.

Which hurt Antonio more than the Spaniard would let on. And the more hurt Antonio got, the more defensive he became. The more defensive he became, the more angry and furious he was. Antonio was known throughout the Academy was being something of a sweetheart. Yet they also acknowledged just how scary he could be when he was pissed off. Arthur could attest to that side of Antonio with numerous examples of their past fights.

However, Lovino was blissfully unaware of such a side to the Spaniard.

"I mean honestly, sometimes I wonder if you'll ever reach a limit on how retarded you can get and then you turn around and do something so fucking stupid, it simply blows my mind. Blows my fucking mind, because never before have I met anyone so fucking stup—!"

Lovino was cut off, as he was slammed against the wall, his shoulders held in place by a very, very strong grip. He winced and swallowed hard as he saw the cold, hard glare that Antonio was giving him. Licking his lips nervously, he began to struggle out of the grip; however, Antonio was strong and Lovino was too scared to try and put any actual energy into his struggles.

"Shut up Lovino! God, won't you ever just _shut up_ for once? You're so fucking annoying! I said sorry, can't you just fucking accept that? I bet Feliciano would, 'cause he's that fucking nice! Is it really that unbelievable that people would prefer your brother over you? Seriously, when he's smarter than you, more friendly and it doesn't even kill him to just compliment someone just fucking once, or forgive them for something stupid! You know, he once asked me out, but I turned him down because I liked you more! Well you know what, that was the worst fucking mistake I ever made!" Antonio had well and truly snapped. His voice came out as a cold hiss and his eyes were dead and dull.

Even he had strayed far off their original topic and was now just concentrating on hitting Lovino where it hurt. Quite frankly, Lovino was rather scared. Quite frankly, Antonio had achieved his goal of hurting him.

"A-Antonio! You bastard! Yo-You love me! You promised me that you n-never wanted Feli! You said you always wanted me! You're lying! You're fucking lying, you bastard!" he cried, his honey-coloured eyes welling up slightly with angry tears. His heart was aching as each word Antonio said, stabbed through it.

"Obviously I said a lot of things in the past, but what made you think they were true?" Antonio replied. Lovino shivered. Christ, his tone was so cold, it would have frozen those ice-caps right up, rendering Global Warming as a thing of the past.

"You...you...IDIOT!" Lovino shrieked out the first thing that came to his mind. It was the only thing that he could think of during that moment. That Antonio was an idiot and that he was lying and that everything would be alright once Antonio just apologized to—

_Slap!_

—him. Lovino's eyes widened in shock and horror as a stinging pain blossomed in his cheek. Shakily he reached up and winced as he touched the hot, sensitive skin. Antonio immediately felt like throwing up as he saw the naked fear in Lovino's eyes and accidentally gripped Lovino tighter as his own nerves got the better of him.

Lovino let out a small whimper at the pain which caused Antonio to snap out of whatever trance he was in. Bile bubbled up in his stomach as he watched his hand-print grow on Lovino's cheek. He reached up to caress the damage, only to retract it when he saw Lovino flinch away from him. Antonio felt sick and confused and so angry with himself. Lovino just eyed him with wary eyes as he began to stammer out his apologies.

Yet, the Italian didn't react as Antonio had thought he would. He didn't get angry, he didn't start to cry...he just stared at him, wide-eyed and calm-as-fuck.

And to be perfectly honest, that scared Antonio more than anything else in the world.

X-x-X-x-X

Thinking back over the memory caused Lovino to break out into another internal, yet rather enjoyable, rant about a certain Spanish male.

_That horrible tomato-eating bastard! Where does he get off making me scared like that? I hope he chokes on a tomato and dies!_

In the midst of cursing Antonio's name, Lovino jumped as a vibration started to go off in his trouser pocket. _Fuck! If that's Antonio already, then he's pathetic! I left, what, five minutes ago? What a stupid loser! As if I'd forgive him so easily for hitting me! _

Lovino pulled up to side of the road and pulled out his phone. _Oh. _It wasn't Antonio. The Italian hummed, guessing that the Spaniard really wasn't that pathetic.

_Incoming Call from Feli._

He eyed the vibrating device and scowled at it. With a well-aimed throw, he tossed it into the road and watched as the phone was crushed under the stream of traffic. Swallowing hard, Lovino tried hard to calm his nerves, found it quite difficult seeing as his heart has just been torn out and he had practically just committed phonicide. Jesus, his brother was gonna be pissed. Well, as pissed as Feliciano can be anyway.

"Hey! Do you mind getting out of the way, you're blocking the road up!"

_Oh, fuck off. Just fucking fuck off and die_. In fact, the whole world can die because Lovino really didn't like the world right now and so it could just go off and commit suicide. The Italian sank into the seat of his Vespa and sighed. He felt the world's worst migraine coming on, and so help the person that decided to piss him off now.

"Oi, if you don't mind, but you really need to get going!"

Lovino scowled. This guy was starting to piss him off. Here he was, suffering at the cruel hands of Fate, and some rude bastard just had to interrupt him. Well, he can just fuck off and die, pretty please, because this Italian was going nowhere.

"Hey, I'm talking to you!" the voice called again. Lovino, understandably enough, snapped.

"_Go away_!" he screamed, whipping his head around to deliver the guy a world of pain, when he froze in motion. Standing before him, in front of a black BMW, was his brother's boyfriend.

A tall, handsome Godly God, whose muscles had muscles of their own. Not that Lovino would ever admit that out loud, after all, the bastard ate potatoes. How fucked up was _that_?

"L-Lovino?" Ludwig asked, eyebrow quirking up and voice filled with disbelief.

Lovino moaned and slammed his head against the handlebar of his Vespa.

_Fuck my life._

* * *

><p><strong>I love Spain. Like, really, really, love him. And Lovino. I love Lovino. Especially when put together. You know, despite the fact that I've just done the opposite! ^_^<strong>

**Right, so I was a little iffy about this chapter. I didn't want Antonio to be cheating, because he just wouldn't and I've already done that. I didn't want him to blank Lovino in favour of Feliciano, because that's been done before. I wanted to do something different and so I ran with the idea that Spain has a dark side to him. However, I also didn't want him to start beating in Lovino, because that isn't his character.**

**So I went with this, thought about it, and very hesitantly started to write it.**

**I don't know whether it worked or not. Oh well. Iffy chapter is IFFY!  
><strong>

**Thank you to:**_ Chibi Russia-Kun, CookieTower, Kiri Ame, Italiangurlinamessedupworld, EvilWerewolfPirate, oOMidnightStarOo, Dead-Knight-of-Darkness, Maya-chan2007, TheFlutterbyEffect, UkUsLove _**annnnd**_ Queen Happo_**! Your reviews are loved muchly so!**

**^_^ Perty please review!  
><strong>

**Love City Girl!**

**x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x**


	4. How To Get Consoled

**This friggin' chapter got deleted. Had to re-write it all over again.**

**Fun times. **

**ENJOY!**

* * *

><p><span>Chapter 4 - How To Get Consoled<span>

"—as such, I may never be able to eat French toast again!" Arthur complained, his grip tightening on the pillow he had in his arms.

As soon as Arthur entered his room, he immediately quarantined anything that Francis could have possibly touched, looked at, or had any interaction with, _ever_. He then proceeded to shove it all into his wardrobe and slammed the doors shut on it. He even included the unicorn plushie that Francis had gotten for his birthday last year. It hurt Arthur to look at it, and it hurt even more when he had to shove it in the back corner, away from any source of light.

Then he jumped on his bed, curled up into a ball and phoned Kiku. He shivered from the rain water as it seeped through his clothes but figured that he would have time for a shower after he spilled his story to his Japanese friend. Kiku was probably his most reliable friend; one that wouldn't laugh at him or his mistakes or judge him for dressing up as a girl to seduce the French boy. Calling him up and divulging all the secrets from that night was the most therapeutic thing that Arthur had done in a long time.

However, he had phoned Kiku up an hour ago. Kiku had stopped responding half an hour ago.

"H-Hey? Are you still there? Kiku, this isn't very polite, you know. In fact, this is downright bloody rude!" Arthur demanded, frowning at his ceiling when he realized that Kiku might not actually be listening to him.

"_Dude, you know Kiku totally fell asleep on you, like, twenty minutes ago_," a voice replied. A voice that made Arthur's blood run cold.

"Alfred, you absolute twat! Get off the phone and put Kiku back on! Now!" the British boy demanded. He sorely hoped that Alfred hadn't heard everything from his rant to Kiku. That would be the second most embarrassing thing to occur to him this week. Or this year, to be more accurate.

"_No can do bro'! He looks way too cute right! It just wouldn't be right to wake him up_!" Alfred replied chirpily. Arthur hummed in amusement.

"'Cute'? Oh Alfred, I didn't know that boys like you acknowledge 'cute' things. Thought you were too macho for such feminine things," he stated playfully. Alfred snorted down the phone and chuckled.

"_Nuh uh! I think I'm comfortable enough with my sexuality to allow myself to factually state something as 'cute'. Like when Kiku is smiling. That's cute. Or when Feliciano talks. That's cute. Or when my brother drowns his food in maple-syrup. That's cute. Or when you laugh. You're cute._" he replied. Arthur laughed, his grip on his pillow loosening somewhat. Alfred really know how to cheer him up sometimes.

"Oh my. I didn't know you knew such long words like 'factually' and 'sexuality'. Or even 'comfortable'!" Arthur teased him.

Alfred clucked his tongue and Arthur knew that he was rolling his eyes as well. "_Dude, don't insult my intelligence. You might just embarrass yourself._" the American warned him. Arthur just snorted; as if he hadn't embarrassed himself enough lately.

"Alfred, don't lie to me. Kiku told you those words, didn't he?" Arthur asked. Alfred was silent for quite sometime before he answered.

"_Maybe. But it's not like he can help it. He's like a walking, talking encyclopedia,_" he replied. Arthur smiled to himself.

"You know what an encyclopedia is?" he asked, his tone filled with mock-astonishment.

"_It's a sorta dictionary, right_?" Alfred asked. Arthur just rolled his eyes.

"Yes Alfred, that's exactly what it is," he said slowly. Alfred scoffed and Arthur knew that he had just been flipped off.

"_Gettin' back to the point!_" Alfred said loudly. Arthur winced as his tinny-voice rang in his ears. "_What the hell happened to you that's made you ring up Kiku, interrupt our video-game time and made the guy fall asleep_?" he demanded. Arthur rolled his eyes. 'Video-games'? Yeah right. That was an euphemism if Arthur ever heard one.

His grip tightened on the pillow once more as he considered Alfred's question. After all, Alfred was his best friend; he deserved to know this stuff, right? Arthur knew that girls would always tell their best friends their secrets, so Arthur could tell Alfred what happened, right? It's not like Alfred would laugh at him. And even if he did, Arthur could always cut his balls off.

"U-Um," he stammered. "Well...Francis...I kinda...dumped him." He was hesitant in telling Alfred, but he managed to spit it out in the end.

There was silence at the end of the phone before Alfred piped up again; his tone colder than before and harsher. "_What did that fucker do_?" he demanded. The question sent a rush of affection flooding through Arthur as Alfred automatically assumed that Francis was the one to fuck up. Arthur had never before felt such appreciation towards the American until now. Not even when they first met and Alfred tried to protect him and stand up for him against his brothers. Not even when Alfred made him a promise that no one else would ever hurt him; not whilst Alfred was around.

Arthur bitterly smiled and felt loved. "H-He..." he wondered if his next words would end up being Francis' demise. Then he realized that he really didn't care. "He cheated on me." he whispered. Alfred swore darkly.

"_That dirty bastard! I'll fucking tear him apart_!" he promised, his voice full of malicious intent. Arthur shivered and wondered if going out with Ivan Braginsky had been detrimental to Alfred's mental health.

"A-ah, please don't. I don't think committing murder would look very good on your personal report," Arthur warned him. Alfred merely scoffed and Arthur could imagine him waving his hand about as if he was waving away Arthur's concern.

"_Dude. My mom's a lawyer. And she's totally in love with you. I could get away with it. And if I don't, then you could always bust me out._" Alfred said confidently. Arthur laughed, relaxing his grip on the pillow in his arms.

"And what makes you think that I would bust you out?" the Brit asked playfully, fingering a loose strand on his pillow. Alfred let out a bark of laughter.

"_Bro, I know you'll bust me out; no need for thinking at all_," the American retorted. Arthur just rolled his eyes and flung the pillow onto the floor. Rolling onto his stomach he ran a hand through his damp hair and sighed.

"I wish I couldn't think right now," he murmured, his tone slightly mournful as he stretched out on his bed. Alfred hummed in reply.

"_Wanna tell me who the son of the bitch cheated on you with? 'Cause I don't mind hurting them too_," Alfred promised. Arthur rolled his eyes.

"No-o. One death is enough I think, Alfred dear." Arthur replied patronizingly. Alfred scoffed.

"_Not if that person hurt you, Arthur darling._" he said. The Brit sighed and just accepted the fact that one day, he will be hearing Alfred's name on the news for killing someone who hurt a person he loved. Strangely, he was kind of okay with that.

"It's no one important, honest," Arthur said, not really wanting Michelle to die before her time. She was an alright girl; when she wasn't sticking her tongue in Francis' throat, that is. "Just some girl. That he brought back to his room. Where I was. Waiting. It was our anniversary, just so you know."

Alfred blinked and then swore again. "_A girl? He cheated on you with a girl? Damn it! I knew I should have said something to him_!" he said. Arthur frowned.

"What are you talking about?" he asked. Alfred cleared his throat and shifted uncomfortably.

"_We-ell. The guy asked me about what you were doing on the day of your anniversary. I told him nothing, obviously...but I guess I should have at least hinted at something. Maybe he wouldn't have cheated on you_," Alfred said, his voice slight strained as he spoke seriously. Arthur hummed in thought.

"It's not your fault. Besides, I don't think it would have made much difference. He's probably been bloody cheating on me since forever," he sighed. Alfred growled lowly in his throat, sending more sparks of concern to fly off in Arthur's mind.

"_He better not have, otherwise I _will _kill_ _him_," Alfred promised darkly. Arthur shook his head and pinched the bridge of his nose.

"You really don't have to do that. I'd much rather get my own back on him anyway," he said honestly.

"_But I have to do something for you! He hurt you, therefore it makes it my right to uphold your honor_!" Alfred declared. Arthur snorted and rolled his eyes fondly.

"Oh really?" he said, humoring Alfred for a moment.

"_Yep! Wanna know why it's my right_?" the American asked. Arthur rolled his eyes. _Because you're a hero, maybe?_

"I give up," Arthur stated, shrugging despite Alfred not being able to see him.

"_'Cause I'm your hero, bro!_" Alfred declared.

Arthur smiled. Alfred had said '_your_ hero' not '_a_ hero' and for some reason that made him feel just a little bit more loved. "Oh Alfred, you really do know how to make me feel bett—" he began, before Alfred cut him off.

_"Sorry bro! Got another call coming in_," Alfred said. Arthur frowned.

"Alfred. Don't you dare put me on hold," he warned darkly. Alfred just laughed.

"_Dude chill, it'll only be for a second_," he said.

"Alfred, I swear I'll—" Arthur began to search through his most gruesome and creative threats that he had in his mental inventory.

"_Gotta go dude_!" Alfred interrupted chirpily.

"Alfred!" Arthur snapped.

"_Talk to you later_~!" the American sang.

Then nothing. Arthur stared at his phone and growled.

Fucking Yankee bastard.

X-x-X-x-X

On the other side of the Academy, Matthew Williams was making pancakes in his kitchen.

Matthew was known for being a _bona fide, _pancake-making genius. It was one of the few things, bar hockey, that made him stand out. It was also one of the few things that he could do that Alfred couldn't. However, due to his current distressed state, Matthew found that his pancake-making abilities were sadly...lacking. In the space of two hours, he had managed to burn eight pancakes out of ten. The other two were currently on the ceiling where Matthew was waiting patiently for them to fall back down. Apparently, flipping them too high actually makes them stick to the ceiling; something that the Canadian only thought possible in films.

However, what was more distressing was the fact that Matthew had started naming his pancakes. The pancake he was making right now, could only be described as 'pathetic'. It was thin and kept breaking apart whenever Matthew tried to flip it over. As such, he named it 'MattPan' and tossed it into the bin, watching it as it sank pitifully to the bottom. Matthew snorted softly. Obviously, that pancake didn't deserve to be eaten. And why should it, when there were so many more attractive pancakes in the world? Pancakes that were perfect and had chocolate drops in them and were draped in maple-syrup?

Matthew blinked and shook his head quickly. He knew he would go insane sooner or later. He blamed Alfred for that fact. His stupid brother Alfred, who he had phoned two hours ago, in hopes that the guy would pick up and willingly listen to his story. But no, he didn't pick up and he hasn't even replied yet.

Scowling, the Canadian glared at his mobile and started making another pancake. The pancake soon became the first pancake that Matthew made successfully. And it was perfect in every way. Perfectly shaped; perfectly fluffy; perfectly perfect. As such, Matthew dubbed it 'ElizaPan', seeing as such a perfect pancake deserved a name that would match its perfectness wonderfully. After all, Elizaveta was such a perfectly fun and friendly girl. Especially if Gilbert favored her over his own freaking boyfriend. Frowning, Matthew gently nudged the pancake onto a nearby plate and started another one.

Matthew found it amazingly therapeutic, making pancakes. Until he tried to make his next one. After making 'ElizaPan', his mind wouldn't leave Gilbert alone. As such, the next pancake would have been 'GilPan' except Matthew attacked it with a knife and shoved it into the bin before it was even finished. Sighing and running a hand through his hair, Matthew knew he needed to talk his problems out with a person.

Not pancakes.

_And dammit Alfred, you will be that person_, Matthew thought bitterly. Pouring more pancake mix into the pan, Matthew reached over the counter and grabbed his phone. Then he punched in a number that he knew off by heart and waited patiently for his dumbass brother to pick up

"_Yo bro! Whatever the hell you want, you gotta speak quickly! I have a pissed off Brit on the other line_!" Alfred chirped. Oh, so he had time to speak to Arthur but he didn't have the time to speak to his own brother. How freaking unfair!

"You always have a pissed off Brit on the other line," Matthew stated dryly. He and Alfred have crossed the line where a simple 'hello' just wasn't enough anymore. Matthew heard Alfred snort and chuckle before replying.

"_Mattie! Dude! Haven't heard from you in a while_," he declared. "_And I do, don't I? Must be some sort of gift or something_!"

Matthew scoffed. "Oh really? How funny, I could have sworn that I called you up two hours ago!" he snapped back, successfully ignoring Alfred's claims of having some sort of gift for annoying Arthur.

Alfred hummed thoughtfully. "_Whatever. I must have been busy or something...anyways, what the hell do you want?_" he asked, his tone indicating that he really didn't care that Matthew had phoned him two hours ago and that he probably hadn't been busy at all. Matthew gritted his teeth.

"I want you to do your job as an older brother and fucking listen to me," he snarled. Alfred audibly choked and spluttered as Matthew cursed.

"_Dude! Please. Don't swear, you'll give me a freaking heart attack_!" he complained, wrinkling his nose with disgust.

"I'll give you more than a heart attack if you don't shut the hell up and listen to me," Matthew warned.

Alfred scoffed. "_What-the fuck-ever. What do you want?_" he asked moodily.

Matthew blinked and licked his lips nervously. Glancing down at the pan in front of him, he saw the pancake start to burn slightly from being left there. The Canadian dubbed it 'AlfPan' and decided to leave it there and watched it as it began to burn. Returning his attention to the situation at hand, Matthew wondered if telling his brother would be the smart thing to do. After all, Alfred wasn't known for being sensitive, or nice for that matter, when it came to personal problems.

However, Alfred was his older brother with a hero-complex. With any luck, he might actually promise to beat Gilbert up.

"W-Well," he started slowly. "U-Um...w-welll, I kinda...d-dumped...Gilbert." He spoke quietly and stuttered a couple of times, but he felt such relief at finally telling something human. He watched 'AlfPan' slowly blacken around the edges and smirked. To think, some people thought he was innocent.

Alfred had remained quiet for the time being, his anger slowly building up before he burst out in outrage.

"_That dirty sonuvabitch! What the hell did he do_?" Alfred demanded. "_You know, I never trusted that freak! I mean, he was way too good for you. Or were you too good for him? Which one makes it sound like I'm on your side?_" he asked, sounding unsure of himself.

Matthew rolled his eyes. "I'm too good for him, maybe?" he prompted.

"_Hell yeah_!" Alfred declared. "_I mean, he freaky and weird! You're totally normal and average-looking. So not a good match_!" Matthew held his phone away from his ear and glared at it dryly. So, he looked 'average'? Gee, thanks for that one Alfred.

"Whatever," Matthew muttered. "It doesn't matter anymore. I dumped him so that's that."

"_Nice one. But seriously, what did he do? You know, Arthur dumped that dickhead Francis today for cheating on him. Please tell me that freak cheated on you,_" Alfred said, his tone icy and hard. Matthew swallowed and smiled slightly. He could always count on Alfred for being on his side.

"N-No. He didn't cheat. Although, he might as well have done," Matthew mused. "And I'm not surprised that Francis cheated on Arthur. His eyes always did seem to wander; all of their eyes actually." Alfred scowled and swore again. Matthew hummed in amusement and decided to take pity on 'AlfPan'. Reaching over, he grabbed his spatula and started to scrape pancake off, single-handedly.

"_Jesus. They really can't keep it in their pants, can they? Heh, I can always cut their dicks off, if you want? That way they won't have anything to take out of their pants!_" Alfred chirped. Matthew moaned and shook his head in amusement.

"No Alfred, it'll be fine," he said. "I'll bear your offer in mind though, if I ever need it."

"_Yeah, whatever_," Alfred said. "_So if he didn't cheat on you, then what the hell did he do?_"

Matthew paused in his pancake-scraping and hummed. It was actually quite difficult trying to sum up what Gilbert had done said exactly. Matthew knew that Gilbert hadn't done anything outrageous except forget who he was...but Matthew was used to it. Perhaps it was just something that had been slowly building up for some time now and that one instance just made him snap. The Canadian sighed and massaged the bridge of his nose.

"I-I don't really know," he admitted. "He's just...a bad boyfriend. He's forgetful. He never does anything nice for me. He lies about having sex with me despite the fact that we haven't done anything past kissing. He only goes out with me when he's alone. He uses me. He's never even said 'I love you'! And that's not even the fucking beginning, eh! He's horrible and nasty and sometimes his teasing goes too far! He makes me want to cry and I just...hate him!"

Alfred blinked, stunned at his brother's language and the hateful tone that he had adopted.

"_Wow. Well...uh, well. Your verbal tic is coming bac._" he stated lamely. Matthew snorted and continued scraping the pancake off into the bin.

"Only when I'm really upset. I think I let it slip once or twice yesterday," he said. Alfred hummed in acknowledgment.

"_Well. You clearly have a lot of issues that you need to sort out bro. Seriously, you're freaking me out here!_" the American stated. Matthew scoffed and slammed down his pan.

"It's not my fault! If anything it's your fault! And Gilbert's..." he muttered and then glared down at the 'MattPan' that sat at the bottom of his bin. He glared at it before glancing over to the 'ElizaPan'. He sniffed and scowled. "I can't help being a pathetic excuse for a pancake. I mean, is it really my fault that there are better pancakes out there in the world? Is it? Really?"

Alfred blinked. "'_Kay, I really don't get what you're trying to tell me, but all this food is making me hella hungry_!" he declared. Matthew growled deep in his throat.

"You're not even trying to help me out, are you?" Matthew asked. Alfred chuckled.

"_I would if I could, but I have an angry Brit I need to get back to! Sorry bro, but I just don't have the time_!" Alfred declared. Matthew blinked before understanding what Alfred was about to do.

"Alfred, don't even think—" Matthew began, but Alfred cut him off.

"_Talk to you later bro!_" he chirped.

"I swear, I will freaking kill you if you—Alfred? Alfred!" Matthew demanded.

There wasn't any point though; Alfred had already hung up on him.

X-x-X-x-X

"_Yo! You still there bro? Arthur?_" Alfred's voice called out of the phone.

Arthur wondered if it would mean to just hang up on him. Then he realized that Alfred would probably just pester him with an unending amount of texts and calls. Best to just get it over and done with now. "Yes Alfred," Arthur sighed. "I'm here."

"_Cool. Listen. You know Mattie, my Mattie? Looks like me but only half as good-looking_?" Alfred asked. Arthur snorted. Matthew and Alfred shared the exact same face; honestly, he was surprised Alfred could get up in the mornings with his head as big as it was.

"Yes, I know Matthew," he stated. "What about him?"

"_'Kay, dude, you'll never guess what happened_," Alfred said. "_But_ _I'm gonna tell ya anyway~! Mattie, my bro, dumped Gilbert Beilschmidt! How awesome is that? My brother kicked that freak's ass to the curb! Cool right?_" He sounded excitable and almost proud; Arthur could imagine him bouncing up and down in excitement. Honestly, when did his best friend become such a child?

_Ah, but then again he never really grew up_, Arthur thought privately. Then Alfred's words actually sank in. Matthew dumped Gilbert? "Really? Why? How? I need details Alfred! Give me details!" he demanded. Alfred laughed and shook his head.

"_Cool it princess, I don't know that much_," he said, ignoring Arthur's protests that he wasn't a 'motherfucking princess'. "_All I know is that Gilbert is a shitty boyfriend and that I really have my work cut out for me if I'm gonna punish the both of them!_"

Arthur hummed thoughtfully. "I always thought that Matthew could do better," he mused. "And really, you don't have to punish them. Seriously," Arthur stated, trying to persuade his best friend against the act of murder. Alfred just laughed at him.

"_Dude, that's what I said! And yeah I do, I really do. No one fucks around with my bestie bud and brother! By the way, did you know that Matthew can swear like a freaking sailor? Almost gave me a heart attack! I'm totally blaming you for it_!" Alfred declared. Arthur spluttered with outrage.

"Why the hell are you blaming me, you bloody bastard!" he demanded.

"_Seriously bro? Seriously?_" Alfred asked dryly.

Arthur flipped his phone off, hoping that Alfred would somehow get the message. "Piss off. Anyway, is Matthew really angry?" he asked, hoping selfishly that the Canadian was pissed off. It would make planning revenge much more fun if he had more people.

"_Dude, the guy is freaking P-I-double S-E-D off!" _Alfred said. "_Why? What are you planning?_"

Arthur gasped in shock, "I am hardly planning anything! What makes you think that I'm planning something?" he asked, wondering if he should be unnerved that Alfred knew him so well.

"_I'm your best friend bro! If I didn't know what your 'planning' voice sounded like, then we'd all be fucked._" Alfred snarked. Arthur blinked blankly.

"I have a 'planning' voice?" he asked dryly. He really hoped he didn't. And if he did, he hoped that no one else had noticed it. That would put a major dent in his future plans. Alfred just laughed at him in response.

"_'Course ya do! And you're using it now,_" Alfred stated. "_So, why do you wanna know why Mattie is pissed_?"

Arthur cleared his throat, still unnerved that his voice changed whenever he was planning something. "No reason." he said, trying to keep his voice as neutral as possible. "But, could you tell him to meet me tomorrow at that place where Kiku works?" he asked.

"_Aha! So you are planning something!_," Alfred declared. "_I freaking knew it! Whatever bro. I'll let him know...just don't drag him into any fucked up shit, 'kay?_"

Arthur rolled his eyes. "Whatever. I promise." he said.

"_Liar_," Alfred said. Arthur didn't correct him. "_I'll let him know later. I gotta go though. Kiku is waking up_."

Arthur snorted. "Have fun playing 'video games' with him," he said, taunting Alfred lightly. The American just snorted.

"_Fuck you dude_~!" he sang and hung up.

Arthur sighed and closed his phone, chucking it onto his bedside table gently. Pausing slightly, he looked at the picture that he had placed there and wondered how he had missed it when he was decontaminating his room of all things French. Picking the picture up, Arthur stroked the frame and sighed sadly. It was a picture of Francis and him, drunkenly laughing in some grassy field where Arthur had his birthday party last year. He couldn't remember it being taken; all he knew was that it was the most beautiful photo of Francis he owned and that he adored it above all others.

The photo showed off all of Francis' laughter lines around his eyes. It showed off his teeth, despite Francis hating having to smile with his teeth on show. It showed off Francis' love for Arthur, as the French boy had his arms wrapped around Arthur's shoulders. And best of all, it showed off Francis' beautiful eyes; wide and sparkling with happiness and pure, unadulterated joy.

Arthur swallowed down the lump that formed in his throat and without thinking, he threw it across the room. The picture landed with a clatter and a crack formed in the glass; the jagged edges ran down Francis' face and Arthur felt like sobbing. The most beautiful picture he owned was ruined. And it was all Francis' fault. Sniffing, Arthur reached up to wipe away the rest of his tears before they fell off his face.

"You know, crying over _you_ is a waste of time," he said bitterly, before a dark smirk overcame his features. "Plotting my revenge, however, is much more..._productive_."

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><p><strong>Done. Edited. Re-written.<strong>

**I'mma go cry now.**

**Thanks to: **_HellsScarletRose, p, KittenNya, SzerelemSzerelem, 94 Bottles Of Snapple, OreoPandas, Gretchen123, alguien22792, Tiamat851v5n, afairyprincessinapunkrockband, Readers-Section, Sasha, XxCapturetheLightxX, doujinshilover1516, 8moonflower8, NYAN, Italiangurlinamessedupworld, Kiri Ame, CookieTower, Miggery, natcat5, Fujoshi Anonim, EvilWerewolfPirate, Caca, Rhythm15 _**annnd** _Yami-no-Hikari-7_**! Your reviews brighten up my day~! ^_^  
><strong>

**Perty please review!**

**Love City Girl**

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	5. How To Get Your Brother's Comfort

**Okay~! So I managed to squeeze out another chapter! Totally Lovino-centered with a bit of Alfred at the end!**

**Thanks to all the favourites, reviews and alerts! ^_^  
><strong>

**You're all beautiful, no? ^_^**

**ENJOY!**

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><p><span>Chapter 5 - How To Get Your Brother's Comfort<span>

It is a truth universally acknowledged, that a German man in possession of a hysterical Italian must be in want of a handgun.

To shoot himself.

Ludwig had spent the past half an hour stuck with Lovino's Vespa ruining his leather seats in the back, and Lovino himself bitching about Antonio in the front. Ludwig truly didn't know which one was worse: the fact that he'd have to replace his backseats, or the fact that Lovino had refused to stop talking for the past thirty minutes.

It was making him ever-so-slightly suicidal; a feeling that not even Gilbert had managed. However, Ludwig knew that if he did commit suicide, then Feliciano would most definitely not be happy. Especially seeing as it was his brother who led him to commit it. Ludwig didn't reckon that anyone could commit suicide due to the brother of the one who brought them out of the proverbial closet. Plus, it would make Feliciano cry and Ludwig hated seeing him cry. Unless they were crocodile tears, but Ludwig always managed to tell the difference.

Either way, suicide was most definitely out of the question.

Instead, he chose to count to one hundred in his mind, hoping that eventually his suicidal-urges would slowly leave him. He was currently counting to a hundred for the seventh time. There has been no noticeable sign of the suicidal-urges leaving him just yet.

Fortunately, Fate decided that it had tortured Ludwig long enough and presented him with the view of his dormitory block. Unfortunately, Lovino still refused to cease his talking. In order to save himself from getting his head bitten off, Ludwig decided that it was best to tune back into whatever it was that Lovino was talking about. Probably Antonio.

"—don't see why I ever put up with the fucker! Right? Hey, potato-bastard! Are you fucking listening to me! You better not be fantasizing about my brother, you dirty bastard! Pay attention to me!" Lovino snapped, eyes narrowing as he flicked Ludwig's ear. Ah, so it was Antonio. What a guess.

The German sighed calmly and pulled up outside a block of dormitories where he lived. "I was listening to you, except I found that you were repeating yourself around the third time you called Antonio a 'domestic-abuser'. I felt that there was no need to pay attention to someone who was just going to repeat their childish insults towards their lover."

Lovino twitched. "Childish fucking insults! Antonio is the kid here! And who are you calling a 'lover'? Antonio never was, nor will be my damn lover! He's a little nasty tomato-eater and I hope he fucking chokes on them," he hissed. "And why the hell are we outside your dorm-block? Mine is the next one over!"

Ludwig switched off the ignition and twisted to face Lovino as fully as he could. "Don't you eat tomatoes as well?" he asked and then calmly left the car, leaving a sputtering Italian behind.

"_Che palle_! Bastard, who the hell do you think you're talking to! And why the fuck did you abandon me outside your fucking dorm! Hey!" Lovino cried, jumping out of the car and slamming the door behind him as hard as he could. Ludwig decided not to react and chose to be mature and adult-like about the situation.

"I thought you would like to talk to your brother. He's in my room at the moment, waiting for me to come back from work. He's made a surprise dinner for me that he thinks I do not know about," Ludwig replied, striding across the car park using long powerful strides.

"What! Why the fuck is he in your room! You dirty pervert, you gave him a key didn't you! God, you're just like your brother, preying on the vulnerable! People like you disgust me!" Lovino hissed, his eyes darkening as Ludwig continued to brush off his insults.

"I know, you told me that last time we met, when you caught Feliciano and I at the restaurant last week," Ludwig replied, as calm as a calm-thing in calm-land. He entered the block of dormitories, paying no heed to the hissed insults that the Italian was spewing out behind him.

Very, very reluctantly, emphasis on the '_very, very_', Lovino followed him in.

Ludwig lived on the first floor, with his dorm on the first right as you entered the block. Lovino catalogued this information away in his mind, knowing that it would be useful when the opportune moment arose. Such as the moment in time when the fucker broke his brother's heart. It will be so much fun vandalising his place when he did.

"Potato-fucker," he muttered, as Ludwig opened the door to his dorm.

"Hmmm, did you say something?" the German called, nonchalant and indifferent to Lovino's grousing.

"Yeah, what about my scooter, it's still in your fucking car!" Lovino snapped, as they entered Ludwig's dorm, remembering that his baby was still cooped up in Ludwig's stuffy BMW.

"I'll get it out in the morning, in the meantime you're welcome to stay here," Ludwig replied, shrugging off his jacket and hanging it up onto a peg. Lovino froze in the doorway, not comprehending the awful, appalling idea that his idiot brother's idiot boyfriend has just suggested. It took all of five minutes before he snapped out of it and went marching after the German.

"What? And why the fuck would I want to stay here? It's disgusting and you live here! It's probably infested with German diseases and potato diseases and wurst diseases!" Lovino ranted, storming through the hallway and into the kitchen. Only to find his brother kissing Ludwig on the cheek in a very sweet manner. An action that Lovino didn't approve of at all.

"What the fuck!" Lovino yelped, only to be ignored by the two other people in the room.

"Ludwig, I'm really glad you like it~!" Feliciano sang softly, humming as he watched Ludwig's face grow redder by the second. Lovino hissed in disgust.

"Pervert! Get your hands off my brother!" he snapped, finally getting the attention he deserved from the others.

"Ahhhh~! Brother, what are you doing here?" Feliciano asked, skipping up to his brother whilst wearing an apron. A fucking apron. A yellow apron. That had fucking birds on it. Lovino snorted in distaste; Gilbert really did have questionable tastes in fashion.

"Funny, I was about to ask you the same damn question," Lovino replied curtly. Feliciano blinked and tilted his head to the side, furrowing his brows gently.

"Eh, I was just making Ludwig something to eat! It was a surprise, but somehow he found out," Feliciano said, bouncing lightly as he spoke. "He was surprised by what I made though! Tagliatelle carbonara! Except I used wurst instead of prosciutto! He really liked it~!"

"I'm overjoyed for you. Really, I am," Lovino dead-panned, rolling his eyes. He threw a glare towards the German bastard who was happily ignoring the brothers in favour of getting some dinner.

"Sooo~, why are you here?" Feliciano asked, gaining his brother's attention at once. After all, it is slightly unnerving to have to watch your brother glare at your boyfriend with so much disgust. One might think that Lovino hated Ludwig, and Feliciano really didn't like that thought. There was nothing more in life that he wanted than his brother's approval of his boyfriend.

"Because your oh-so-fucking-precious boyfriend kidnapped me!" Lovino hissed, leaning against the wall with a sulky pout.

"I believe that you entered my car voluntarily and that was after you forced your scooter into the backseat. There was no kidnapping involved," Ludwig stated, giving Lovino a firm glare of his own. Feliciano gasped, his eyes widening with shock.

"How did you get the Vespa into his car? Oh, you probably ruined his seats!" he cried, wrapping his arms around Ludwig's shoulders as he mourned the leather seats.

Lovino scoffed. "Fuck his seats! What about me?" he asked, gaining a confused look from his brother.

"What about you? What happened? Did you forget your homework again? Is Grandpa angry with you again? Have you been kicked out of your apartment again? Have you come to yell at me again? Or Ludwig again? Oh...is it Antonio. Again~?" Feliciano asked, not releasing the German from his vice-like grip. Ludwig shifted slightly. Feliciano may look like a pushover, but he was a clingy pushover; something that Ludwig learnt within three minutes of meeting the boy.

Lovino's eye twitched. "Shut the fuck up...and it was that tomato-fucker. This time," he muttered, glaring at the German who had the audacity to look happy with Feliciano's arms around him. Dirty pervert, as if he didn't know that Lovino knew his game.

"Ah, what did you do?" Feliciano asked. Feliciano was the opposite of Alfred in these situations and always assumed that it was Lovino to fuck up whenever Antonio and he had an argument. Which really was the case 95% of the time. It just wasn't very helpful the other 5% of the time when it was Antonio that fucked up.

"I did fuck all! That bastard hit me, Feli! Really hard!" Lovino cried, rubbing his cheek absent-mindedly.

Feliciano gasped, finally releasing Ludwig from his grasp. "No! Why would he do that! He loves youuu~!" he chirped.

"Obviously not that much. And then he said all these horrible things to me..." Lovino said bitterly. "He freaked the shit out of me."

"No...what did he say?"

Lovino blanched. "Nothing important. Just...really horrible things," he murmured. He didn't really want Feliciano to find out exactly what Antonio had said. Mainly because Lovino didn't want to see his brother cry, as it would just lead him to feeling massively guilty. The major reason was that Lovino didn't know if Antonio had been lying when he had said that Feliciano had asked him out.

If Lovino were to find out that his brother had, then he would be fucking humiliated to the final degree. That and it would just be fucking awkward.

"Are you no longer together then?" Feliciano asked, tilting his head to the side.

"Of course not! Why the fuck would I want to be with that bastard after what he did to me! Fuck that shit!" Lovino hissed. "I don't even want to be in the same building as him!"

Feliciano sighed sadly. "Then where will you sleep tonight? We have school tomorrow..." he murmured softly, his little curl drooping along with his emotion. Fucking cute mental image, right? I'm just spoiling you with these now!

"Don't give a fuck. Just as long as it's not near him," Lovino replied, crossing his arms sulkily.

"Eh, eh! Brother, why don't you go and sleep in my room here, tonight~! It's just behind you and I won't need it~! I sleep with Ludwig mostly anyway~!" Feliciano chirped, bouncing lightly as he watched Lovino's face burn up with rage. "Ooooh~! And I have an extra uniform for you as well~!" Now, _that_ just made the older Italian snap.

"Y-You sleep with that dirty bastard! And leave clothes here!" Lovino cried, throwing an accusing finger in Ludwig's direction. The German sighed.

"Huh? Ludwig's not dirty! He's actually very, very clean~! He has three showers a day! Unless...you mean the other kind of dirty, then I'd have to agree. I found these magazines under his bed the other day and they were very dirty! And I mean the other dirty, because they didn't have any dirt on them, they were actually kinda clean! But they were very, very dirty! Some of them even had dogs in the—!" Feliciano chirped, completely oblivious to the fuming Italian before him who was so-very-close to actually murdering the fuming German beside him.

"Feliciano! You cannot say such things!" Ludwig interrupted him, pulling on Feliciano's arm and then hoisting him off to bed. "We're going to bed, you're welcome to sleep in the spare room or outside. I really do not care," he called out to Lovino, ignoring the angry vibes that radiated from the boy.

"You bastard! You'd like it if I were to sleep outside! It would make it easier for you to seduce and corrupt my brother you sicko! Well guess what, you dick! I'm not falling for it. I'm staying right here, just to keep an eye on you!" Lovino hissed, turning on his heel and entering the spare bedroom.

He eyed the room with disgust and made sure to slam the door extra hard behind him. He hoped that Ludwig took it as some kind of warning that his head could easily be that door if he ever touched Feliciano again. Shucking off all of his clothes, he stuffed them into his bag and climbed into the bed.

It was too light in the room, the ceiling had an awful pattern to it, the bed was scratchy, the duvet was too heavy and the whole damn place reeked of potatoes.

Feeling the first tear fall, Lovino resigned him to the fact that he might never fall asleep with the smell of tomatoes surrounding him and Antonio's warm arms slung across his body again. Despite his tears slowly trickling down, Lovino eventually managed to go to sleep.

X-x-X-x-X

The Italian awoke the next day to the horrific smell of a burning omelette.

His eyes snapped open at the scent of smoke and he wrinkled his nose in disgust. "Stupid Antonio. Why the hell is he cooking omele—oh. I'm not in that bastard's apartment...fucking hell," he muttered, rubbing his eyes to get rid of the stinging sensation he had started to feel.

In order to distract himself from the enormous heart-ache he was feeling (and then would go on to deny), Lovino glanced around the room and spied the extra uniform that his brother had left out for him. Wrinkling his nose, he crawled out from under the duvet and shuffled towards the clothes. Lifting up the oxford-shirt, he gingerly sniffed at the sleeve.

Oh. Oh, oh...God. Oh, fucking hell. He was actually going to smell like potato for the rest of the day.

Someone kill him now.

Unfortunately the deities above were ignoring Lovino on this particular day, as they found it more amusing to let the Italian live and then watch him as he went about his day smelling like a jacket potato. Holding his breath, he pulled the shirt on and buttoned it up. Lovino then searched the other clothes.

The trousers: smelt like sweet potatoes.

The socks: smelt like mashed potatoes.

The fucking tie: smelt like roast potatoes.

The underwe—what the _fuck_!

What-the-actual-fuck. Why the hell did Feliciano give him boxers? What the hell had Feliciano been _doing_ here that made him leave his boxers at this bastard's place? What the hell made Feliciano assume that Lovino would wear them?

Pffft. Screw that shit! Lovino would go commando today! Throwing the offending clothing behind him, Lovino pulled on the trousers and socks and slipped into his sneakers. Spying his bag in the corner, overflowing with his clothes, Lovino automatically went to reach for his phone.

Only to remember that he had killed it the day before, when Feliciano called. Who probably forgot all about that, seeing as he never questioned Lovino about the call. Whatever. The cold, hard fact remained: he had murdered his phone and now he would have to go buy a new one. Then find out if anyone had sent him a call or something.

He bit his lip as he wondered if Antonio had left him any messages. The weird, sickly feelings intensified and he sighed as he gathered up his bag and Feliciano's blazer. Lovino briefly flirted with the idea of just skipping school; but he figured that by doing, he'd be letting Antonio win. That and Feliciano would just get worried and ask even more intrusive questions; something that Lovino really didn't need right now.

When he walked into the kitchen, he felt all those strange feelings disappear, and a new sensation (very similar to nausea) grew in their place. He died a little on the inside as his eyes refused to leave the sight before him.

Lovino's mind momentarily broke for a second, causing him to be unable to process the scene before him properly with the exception of a few words flitting about his mind: brother, potato, no shirt, a whisk, tongues where tongues should not go and a bite-mark sitting very nicely on his brother's collar bone.

His eye twitched once before he decided to let hell loose.

"What the fuck!" he yelped, his eyes widening to two large circles. Ludwig leaped away from Feliciano as if burned, leaving the younger Italian to whine from the loss of contact.

"Loviiii~! We were having fun!" Feliciano pouted, frowning at his clearly despairing older brother. Lovino honestly couldn't give a fuck.

"I don't give a fuck!" See. Told you. "Why the fuck was he eating your neck and not eating the cremated omelette-shit in the pan?"

Feliciano blinked. "Ah! We burned it...guess we were having too much fun, eh Luddyyy~" he sang, fluttering his lashes at the blushing German. Who, in Lovino's opinion, should not be fucking blushing at all. He should be grovelling for forgiveness at Lovino's feet for corrupting his baby brother!

"Potato-pervert!" he cried and threw the nearest thing he could get at Ludwig's head. Unfortunately, the nearest thing was Feliciano's tie, so it didn't get very far. Instead of standing around with his humiliation-levels slowly rising, Lovino turned on his heel and dramatically left the kitchen.

"Wait, brotheeer~!" Feliciano sang, jumping off the table and giving Ludwig a quick kiss to the jaw. "I forgot to tell you something~!"

Lovino rolled his eyes and tutted. "Don't care. Don't want to know. Leave me alone."

"Ehh? But it's really, really important~! Wouldn't you like to know~!" Feliciano asked, rocking backwards and forwards on the balls of his feet.

"Not really, but you're going to tell me anyway," Lovino stated, pulling on his brother's spare blazer.

"Well, my best friend Kiku sent me a text this morning and told me to tell you that Alfred told him that Arthur and his brother both said to him that—"

"Is this going anywhere?" Lovino demanded, throwing his brother an annoyed glare as he tied his shoe-laces.

"Brotheeeer~! Don't interrupt! Kiku told me that interrupting people is very rude! So, as I was saying, apparently both Arthur and Alfred's brother dumped their boyfriends as well~!" Feliciano declared, throwing his hands in the air as a big finale to his news. Lovino paused in his shoe-lace-tying and quirked a brow.

"Really? So the entirety of that bastard Trio are single?" Lovino asked, his tone filled with disbelief and a hint of smugness. "Hahahaha! Those fuckers had it coming for ages!"

Feliciano frowned slightly. "Lovino...you really shouldn't laugh. After all, Francis and Antonio are like my big brothers! And Gilbert really is Ludwig's big brother! They must be very sad!"

Lovino sighed and shook his head. Feliciano...you poor innocent baby boy. I would give you a hug, if I could...but I can't. Yet it's the thought that counts, right?

"Sad? Sad? I hope they're fucking depressed! Antonio smacked me and...uh, said really nasty things to me! I'm pretty sure that Francis and Gilbert did no better if they're the ones that were dumped. Didn't you know that Gilbert only asked his boyfriend out due to a dare? Of course that fucking relationship wouldn't last, 'cause that retard ruined it before it even started! And don't even get me started on that other fucking, disgusting pervert either!" Lovino spat bitterly.

Feliciano's frown only deepened. "B-But I'm sure Antonio didn't mean it. He's so nice and loving. He cares for you a lot and he would do anything for you."

Lovino angrily ran his hands through his hair and gritted his teeth. "Then why don't you go and fucking date him!" he snapped, his feelings of bitter hurt leaking into his tone slightly.

"Ehhh? But I already have Ludwig and I love him very much~! Besides, you love Antonio and I would never do that to you!" Feliciano replied, making Lovino feel all those uncomfortable warm and fuzzy feelings again.

"Che...whatever. Did Kiku say anything else?" he asked, eager to move on to a different subject.

"Ahhh, only that they were meeting at that cute little café around the corner at lunch. Maybe you could meet them there~?" Feliciano replied, tilting his head from left to right as he watched Lovino enter the hallway to leave.

"Yeah, maybe," Lovino muttered, mulling over the idea in his head. If Arthur had dumped Francis and Alfred's brother dumped Gilbert, then they must have fucked up bad. It would be pretty fucking cool if they joined up to destroy those motherfuckers...also, since when did Alfred have a brother?

Lovino shook his head. He had better things to think about. "I'm leaving. _So_ not coming back for as long as I fucking live," he called, exiting the dorm-room.

"Alrighty then, bye brotheeeer~! Ehhh~! Ludwig, you didn't have to make me breakfast again~!" Feliciano sang, his voice being the last thing Lovino heard before he close the door. Thankfully Ludwig lived on the first floor, so he was saved from entering any nasty elevators that would most likely stop halfway down, leaving him to starve to death. Not that Lovino was scared of elevators; it's just that...well, he was.

Lovino sighed and left the building. Feliciano was very fucking lucky to have a boyfriend who would never smack him about, or say nasty things to him, or even insinuate that he'd rather date his broth—ew. Ew, ew, ew! Bad, bad mental images! Leave now!

Shaking his head with a shiver, Lovino set off to the main building of the Academy. It would be a hell of a lot easier if he had his fucking baby, but oh no, it was still stuck in that bastard's car! Stupid fucking potato-eater, completely forgot to get it out for him! As if Lovino could get his baby out himself! Pffft! If it weren't for the fact he made his brother happy, Lovino would have fucked Ludwig up ages ago.

Alas, he hadn't. Ludwig was simply too nice and too much of a good boyfriend for Lovino to fuck up.

That, and the bastard was the strongest motherfucker around and Lovino was most certainly not suicidal.

Yet.

**~MEANWHILE~**

"Hey dudes, you look like shit!" Alfred called, as he approached the Trio who were squished up against the window in the boy's toilets.

Looking like 'shit' would perhaps be the most nicest way of putting it. Gilbert's face was twisted into a furious scowl, his hands clenched into fists. He must have been punching a wall or something, 'cause his knuckles looked a little bit bruised. Antonio's pretty eyes were red and puffy, his tanned cheeks looked ashen. The Spaniard must have spent half the night sobbing his heart out into a pillow.

Alfred had to say it though, but Francis looked the worst...and so he should. The American smirked as he gave the fancy French bastard the once-over. His blond hair was knotted and looked ever-so-slightly greasy, his eyes looked watery as if he had spent his night drinking and, hadn't he worn those clothes the day before? Oh wait, he had! Alfred was loving the situation and the three before him knew it.

"So, guess who had a totally uncool night, _not_ playing video games with his cute friend who also happens to be a cute boy? Guess who had to listen to a totally unhappy best friend pour his fucking heart out 'cause his ex-boyfriend is a cheating dick! Oh, oh, oh~! Then guess who had to listen to his angry baby brother, 'cause _his_ ex-boyfriend was _also_ being a dick!" Alfred chirped, rocking back and forth on his heels with his hands behind his back.

Alfred loved playing games with those who had hurt his friends. He loved luring them into a false sense of security, making them drop their defenses before _bam_! Totally nuking the shit outta them!

"Hey, we had the most unawesome night of our awesome lives last night. Give us a fucking break, _ja_?" Gilbert sighed, throwing a glare in the American's direction. However, Alfred had a lot of experience with glares, due to living half his life as Arthur's best friend. As such, glares never affected him anymore and really, they just bounced off him.

"Cannot let that happen, dudes!" Alfred replied, bright as a fucking bright button. He held his hands in front of him and cracked his knuckles. The group before him winced at the noise and swallowed hard. Usually they would be a little bit more confident with the odds: one against three. Except this was Alfred F. Jones. A furious, over-protective Alfred F. Jones who also happened to have connections with a certain scary-ass, bat-shit insane Russian from the year above.

So their confidence was a little lacking. Along with their spines.

"W-Wait! You seriously don't have to do this! You don't even know _our_ side of the story yet," Antonio insisted, backing away slightly. Contrary to Lovino, the other two thirds of the Trio and most of the fucking world, Antonio was _not_ stupid. He knew why Alfred had cornered them and he knew that it would only end in tears. Their tears. Probably Alfred's too, but only if he were to be crying with laughter.

Which is likely.

Oh crap.

"Dude, I totally don't give a shit about your sides of the freaking story. I mean, look at me, do I even look like I give a shit?" Alfred asked, cocking his head to the side, making his glasses glint ominously in the light shining through the window.

Gilbert rolled his eyes. "This is so unawesome. You do realise that I did fuck all to your brother. I don't know what the fuck I did, so how can you threaten someone that's done fucking nothing wrong?" he asked, his red eyes narrowed and firm. Alfred laughed, a fake, harsh laugh that echoed in the tiny bathroom.

"Are you for real? Dude, if you don't know how the hell you fucked up, then you should figure it out. _I_ don't even know how you fucked up, but you did make Mattie cry, so naturally, I'm gonna fuck you up. Brotherly responsibilities and all that. You understand, right?" Alfred asked, leaning slightly towards the albino, hands on hips with a smile on his face. Before Gilbert could retort, Antonio smoothly cut in.

"Can't you just let them go. If you do then they can go apologize, right _mis amigos_?" He looked to Gilbert who merely scoffed and turned away, and then to Francis who hadn't spoken a single word so far. Alfred snorted and shook his head.

"Hey man, it ain't just them I'm here for. A certain cute Japanese friend of mine told me that you fucked up big time with Lovino. Geeze, I really have my work cut out for me today!" Alfred exclaimed, cracking his knuckles once more with a grin. Antonio paled slightly, his pretty eyes widening considerably.

"_Scheiße_," Gilbert muttered, running a hand through his hair, carefully avoiding a rather disgruntled Gilbird who had watched the proceedings curiously. The bird was torn between helping his master out and just hiding in his hair and allowing Gilbert to accept some form of punishment. After all, Gilbird was very fond of Matthew and despite that fact that the boy called him 'stupid', he still believed that Gilbert must have hurt the boy in some shape or form.

"Fine. Can't you let us all go to talk to them, then?" Francis finally piped up. Alfred smirked, baring all his teeth and glared at the French-fancy before him.

"As said before man, I cannot let that happen," the American responded, taking a step towards them and then chuckling as they all took a step back. "Ah, c'mon dudes. Don't make this any more difficult than it has to be! Just grow a pair, 'kay? It'll be over before ya know it!"

Francis sighed, he knew it was inevitable. After all, Alfred had warned him not to hurt Arthur, and that was before he had even considered dating the British boy. As Alfred took a few steps forward and they took the final steps back before they hit the wall behind them, Francis clenched his eyes shut.

He really hoped that Alfred wouldn't go for his face.

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><p><strong>Dude. Of course Alfred is going for your face.<strong>

**So, can you tell how much I fucking adore the American Idiot. Like seriously, sometimes his jerkiness pisses me off, but most off the time it's just like, n'awww, he's so cute! ^_^**

**Yeah. Anyway, thank you to: **_afairyprincessinapunkrockband, shizukoyasu, Miggery, Sadie Woods, Musingsage, flames04, CookieTower, .qUiCkSiLvEr wInGs., xGlass, boredomkiller123, wings-in-the-moonlight, Readers-Section, Jeanne S, demonlifehealer, Italiangurlinamessedupworld, XxCapturetheLightxX, Dead-Knight-of-Darkness, Caca, Sasha, SymbioticSatirist, Chibi Russia-Kun _**annnnd**_ Meaningless Name_**! Your reviews make me oh-so-happy and joyful inside! **

**Especially thank you to **_ Jeanne S _**who helped correct my lame attempt at slaughtering the Spanish language! And to **_Sadie Woods _**for writing what I consider to be an essay, rather than a review! Thank you oh-so-much! The rest of you are absolutely loverly for taking the time to review! ^_^**

**So this revenge-shitza is heating up, yes?**

**Hehehehe...review perty please!**

**Love City Girl**

**x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x**


	6. How To Kick Start This Shit

**Iffy long chapter is long and iffy.**

**I really have to stop writing chapters that are deemed iffy. They make me sad.**

**So...I hope you enjoy this. I hope. **

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><p><span>Chapter 6 - How To Kick-Start This Shit<span>**  
><strong>

Arthur was a little bit more than glad when lunch finally rolled around.

He had spent the entire morning putting up with people staring at him and talking about him and knowing that he'd been humiliated to the _n_th degree. Arthur didn't know how such information got out or who had let it slip that Francis had broken up with him, but Arthur swore he was going to find out. He knew that Francis wouldn't have told anyone. Such information like that would have destroyed his 'perfect' reputation.

Which left Michelle, who was probably too embarrassed to tell anyone; Kiku, who was just too polite and then there was Alfred. Who, despite how untrustworthy he looked, really wouldn't tell anyone Arthur's secrets.

Either way, one of them needed to suffer for letting such a destructive secret get out. The British boy could only take being stared at for so long before he needed to escape. As soon as lunchtime came around, he was the first one out of the door and the first one to leave the Academy to head off to the café around the corner. Luckily for him, he had left his Literature class early, making it easier for him to avoid anyone else on the way.

The café where he had gone to was imaginatively named: 'The Café Around The Corner' and everyone went there. It was cheap, near and there were rumours that one of the workers had managed to sneak in alcohol in the back. It was also very small, with a bar running along the far side of the building, leading into a kitchen and tables and booths that covered the rest of the space. It didn't have central heating or air conditioning, which led to it being extremely cold in winter and extremely hot in summer.

The café was owned by three best friends who came from three different countries. The oldest was Wang Yao, who owned it and upheld any rules and regulations with an iron wok. He had a weakness for 'cute' things, leading to certain people getting discounts. Last Arthur heard, he was also dating Ivan Braginsky. The Brit wondered if he should warn the Chinese boy about how hazardous it could be to his health. The middle child was Kiku Honda, who was a little OCD about manners and courtesy. He spent most of his time 'playing video games' with Alfred and spent the rest of his time talking to his family, who still lived in Japan, through Skype. He was also incredibly uptight about money.

The youngest in the family was Im Yong Soo. He happened to be just a little bit more affectionate towards his brothers than considered normal, but Yao and Kiku had grown used to it and could predict when Yong Soo was going to hug them. He was incredibly obsessed with South Korea, hoping to live there one day and create a business for himself. Unfortunately, his obsession grew to the extremes, in which he would declare everything and anything was invented in South Korea.

Walking into the café, Arthur saw that it was Yong Soo who was serving the tables. Normally, there would be at least two of the brothers working at any one time, unless it was a slow day. Arthur wrinkled his nose and figured that it was Yao who was in the kitchens that day. Breathing a sigh of relief that his food wouldn't be burnt and his portions wouldn't be pitiful, Arthur made his way to the furthest booth away from the door. He slung his bag under the table and slumped into the chair with a huff. He really hoped that Matthew would turn up early, he really didn't want the majority of the school's population to find him sat on his own like he had no friends.

"Hey! It's you! You know, don't know your name, but you're the one who got cheated on! Geeze...you know, cheating on your lover is one of the things Korea didn't invent. I mean seriously, why would they invent something so bad?" came the third most irritating voice in Arthur's life. The Brit had only met Yong Soo once, but it was a meeting that told Arthur everything he needed to know about the Korean. Starting with the fact that he needed to keep his chest covered.

So, completely disregarding the fact that cheating on someone can't actually be invented, Arthur sighed and hoped that the following few minutes of his life were as painless as he hoped. "Just get me a strawberry milkshake Yong Soo. Please," he asked politely.

"Milkshakes? That was an epic invention. Who invented it?" Yong Soo asked, grinning as he hovered in front of Arthur. The Brit had no fucking idea how he did it, but Im Yong Soo had the freaky ability to appear out of fucking nowhere. That kinda shit wasn't right.

"Korea? Maybe?" Arthur sighed, feeling a headache that he thought only Alfred could create. Yong Soo cackled and nodded excitedly.

"Exactly! I like you...don't know who the hell you are, but I do! One milkshake coming up!" Yong Soo declared. Arthur snorted. Everyone might come to the café during lunchtime, but Arthur wasn't 'everyone'. And despite meeting the guy once, Arthur figured he hadn't made enough of an impression to remain in Yong Soo's mind. Or maybe he just needed to get out more. Normally during lunchtimes, Francis would abduct him and drag him off to the nearest closet for an 'intense-bonding' session, that always ended in se—_woah_. Woah, what the fuck, no. Just no.

Those memories can go repress the shit out of themselves, because Arthur didn't want to remember them.

"One milkshake!" Yong Soo chirped, bringing Arthur back down to reality.

"Oh, thank you...um, could you keep them coming, please?" the Brit asked, mixing the strawberry sauce into the ice cream lazily. If Matthew ended up being late, then Arthur wasn't going to just sit there and do nothing. He'd much rather suffer the consequential brain-freeze, rather than the fact that his peers would view him as a sad, little loner who couldn't live without his boyfriend.

'Cause he can live without the diseased frog and he will prove it too.

"E-Eh...sure. Whatever you want," Yong Soo stated, edging away from the slightly deranged look that Arthur was exhibiting. Not that Arthur took any notice. He was too busy devising ways in which to kill Francis, many of which involved sharp, pointy sticks and the act of castration.

However, no matter how fun it was to imagine Francis' death, Arthur was still tuned into reality and the fact that the café was slowly filling with students. His paranoia that they were still talking about him, caused him to drink quicker and order more drinks. His gaze continuously scanned the room, flinching whenever someone looked at him or if he saw a group of people whispering amongst each other.

Around his fourth milkshake, the café was packed with students and Arthur was beginning to get a little pissed off. He had spent nearly twenty quid on milkshakes; his brain-freeze kept flaring up at inconvenient moments and Yong Soo had managed to successfully grope his chest. Gritting his teeth, Arthur once again wondered as to where the actual fuck Matthew was.

Around the seventh milkshake, Arthur's paranoia had slowly died down when he realised that the students weren't actually talking about him. Most of them were minding their own business, as if they were over the gossip from this morning. Apparently a new rumour had started, concerning a certain Polish boy from Arthur's year and a skirt. He breathed a sigh of relief that he was no longer a 'hot topic' of conversation.

However, the sigh of relief soon turned into a huff of annoyance when he realised that Matthew still hadn't turned up. Arthur's gaze scanned the room and his wrinkled his nose with irritation as he failed to spot the Canadian. "Where the fuck is that boy?" he muttered, glaring at the screen that declared that he had no messages.

"Umm...right in front of you?" a small voice whispered, giving Arthur a heart-attack. The Brit grasped at his chest and gazed in disbelief at the boy sat in front of him. Matthew was dressed in his over-sized, red hoodie over his school uniform, clutching a polar-bear plushie to his chest.

"How fucking long have you been there!" Arthur exclaimed, eyeing Matthew with suspicion. Arthur had known the Canadian for a very long time, so he knew that the boy must be at least half-ninja or something.

Matthew tapped his lip in thought. "Around about the time when you ordered your third milkshake and Yong Soo declared that he now owned your...um, chest."

Arthur blushed furiously. "Why the fuck didn't you saying anything?" he asked.

Matthew sighed and gave him a deadpanned look. "I did. I called out your name for the past five minutes."

Feeling awful, Arthur bit his lip and apologised. "I apologise most profusely. Please, let me buy you a drink," he offered, feeling like he ought to make it up to the boy who he had practically ignored for the past thirty minutes.

"Oh, it's okay. I don't want one," he replied, rubbing his chin into the bear's soft fur. Matthew knew that it was strange for a seventeen year old boy to be carrying a stuffed toy, but he couldn't help it. The musky scent of cigarettes and birds was ingrained into the bear's fur. Despite how angry he was at Gilbert, Matthew couldn't help but feel that tad bit better whenever he inhaled that scent.

"A-Ah...right. So...u-um..." Arthur started, but found it hard to begin a conversation with someone when all he wanted to know was why that someone dumped their boyfriend.

Matthew however understood exactly what Arthur was trying to ask him and smiled softly. "It's okay. I know why you asked me to come here. You want to know why I dumped Gilbert."

Arthur flushed a little. "W-Well, yes. If you don't mind telling me, of course!"

"It's okay. Alfred told me that Francis cheated on you, so it's only fair, right?" Matthew asked, hoping he hadn't offended Arthur by bringing Francis up.

"I suppose if you want to see it as such..." Arthur muttered, playing with the straw to his milkshake. So, Alfred told Matthew; Arthur wondered if that was sufficient enough evidence to assume that Alfred told everyone else too. Matthew smiled sadly, holding his bear closer to him.

"Gilbert...h-he...he's a really bad boyfriend. I mean...he's...he just is. I don't know," he finished lamely. Matthew liked Arthur, he really did. He just didn't know whether the Brit would tease him or not, if he found out that the real reason he dumped Gilbert was because he wasn't romantic enough or that he basically just used him whenever Gilbert felt like hanging out.

Arthur sighed, shaking his head. If he wanted his plan to go without a glitch, then he would need proper details. But he figured that the wounds were still raw, so he didn't probe. And he did sympathise with Matthew as well.

"Francis wasn't exactly a good boyfriend either," Arthur said, and before he could delve into his plan of revenge, a voice cut across him sharply.

"Fucking hell, anyone could have told you that! That bastard must be the World's Worst Boyfriend, if it weren't for the fact that a certain tomato-bastard would win that award, hands down!" an Italian accented voice rang out. Neither Matthew or Arthur felt like they needed to look up to see who it was. The Canadian just sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose. Arthur just rolled his eyes and huffed.

"Lovino. Why are you her—" the Brit began, but Lovino cut across him. Again.

"Seriously, what does a guy have to do to get a damn cappuccino around here? Any-fucking-way, your boyfriend, or ex-boyfriend, whatever...deserves to fucked up the ass repeatedly with something sharp and covered in STIs. Except, he'd probably enjoy that too much, so I hope he gets herpes and his dick falls off or something!" Lovino ranted, inspecting his nails as he did so.

"Lovino! What the fuck are you doing he—" Arthur tried again. And failed again.

"Oh! And the other two are no fucking better! I mean seriously, they should all just keel over and die!" Lovino hissed, flicking off some lint from his shoulder.

"Lovino...why are you here?" Matthew asked, his soft voice just about reaching Lovino's ears.

The Italian jumped at the noise and blinked at the person who emitted it. "What, or who, the fuck are you?" he asked, quirking a brow as he regarded the Canadian before him.

Matthew's eye just twitched.

"I'm Matthew, Alfred's brother," he muttered, turning away from the Italian's stare. "And don't even begin to ask how long I've been here. I've sat here long before you even entered the café!" The Canadian threw one last glare at the Italian, before burying his face into his bear's soft fur. Lovino snorted in amusement.

"Well, someone has balls. But I guess you'd have to have them in order to ditch that fucking freak!" he said, sitting down next to the flustered Canadian.

"W-Well, i-it wasn't th-that hard! I-I mean...I j-just sort of e-exploded and—!" Matthew sputtered out, causing the Italian to sigh in great disappointment.

"And now you've ruined it. Seriously, you want to keep your balls? Yes, of course you do. Then keep your fucking mouth shut!" Lovino snapped, clicking his fingers to get Yong Soo's attention. "Hey! Get me a cappuccino, I asked five times now!"

The boy merely grinned at the rude tone and winked at him. "Cappuccinos. Totally invented in Korea, you know?" he stated and skipped off to make Lovino's drink. The Italian spluttered and protested loudly at the Korean's words.

"Bastard! The Italians created that drink! Who the hell does he think he is?" Lovino exclaimed, clearly fuming at Yong Soo's statement.

Arthur rolled his eyes and sighed. "Is there a reason as to why you're here?" he asked, as Lovino finally stepped on his last nerve.

The Italian just scoffed. "I rid myself of a certain tomato-choking-bastard and I happened to overhear that you two got rid of the other two bastards. Congratu-fucking-lations!" he declared, sitting up better in his chair when Yong Soo came back. Something must have gone wrong, because he had a sneer upon his face as he reached their table.

"Just remembered. Cappuccinos? Totally not invented in Korea," he stated as he dumped a ruined cappuccino in front of Lovino. "As if they would invent something that didn't work!" he exclaimed before flouncing off with a huff.

Lovino twitched, his lips stretched into a tight smirk. "Bastard...he's only saying that because he ruined it. Cappuccinos are extremely hard to master. It's why Italians were the ones to invent it!" he declared, pushing the disgraceful drink away from him.

"Yeah," Arthur started slowly, his eye twitching slightly. "So you heard that we dumped those bastards as well...who from?" he asked, rather unnerved at how quickly gossip spread throughout the school. He blamed Alfred mostly. It was a sort of reflex he had to just blame the American for anything that went wrong.

Lovino rolled his eyes. "My idiot brother told me. Who heard it from Kiku apparently. So, enough chit-fucking-chat. I was told to come see you two, considering the current circumstance we're all in. So what the fuck are you two here for?" he asked, raising a brow at the pair before him.

"Easy," Arthur purred. "Revenge." Matthew felt a shiver of fear ripple up his spine. Lovino edged away slightly, feeling incredibly unnerved by Arthur's expression.

"R-Revenge?" Matthew squeaked, totally unsure as to how take that bit of news. Yeah, getting back at Gilbert would be nice but...but getting back at Gilbert would be nice. More than nice. Matthew snorted; in fact, getting back at Gilbert would be pretty damn awesome.

The Italian's eyes lit up, his excitement hiding the fact that he was scared a few moments ago. "Revenge? Really? And what the fuck did they do to you? Anto—that bastard...he, uhh...hit me. It's why I got rid of him," he stated, simplifying the details to avoid any awkward moments.

Whilst Arthur just rolled his eyes, Matthew grew slightly concerned. "R-Really? W-Why would he do tha—"

"Don't fucking ask for details, just tell me what they did to you!" Lovino interrupted, crossing his arms with a huff. Arthur scoffed; well, someone was hormonal today.

"Francis cheated on me," Arthur replied simply, feeling the sharp stab of pain as he reminded himself of Francis' crime.

"Gilbert fucked with my feelings and me," Matthew said, glad that Lovino didn't want any details. He didn't think that he could explain it properly enough for them to actually understand why he dumped Gilbert. And he was slightly worried that they would just scoff and laugh at his reasoning. After all, dumping someone for not 'loving them enough' was nothing compared to dumping someone who cheated or who hit you.

"Well, what a couple of fuckers, eh? So, best not to waste any time of our fucking lives here. You got any ideas for this revenge thing?" Lovino asked, truly intrigued with this idea of Arthur's.

"We have to make them hurt. We have to make them feel what we felt. They need to feel humiliated, hurt, ashamed of what they did to us. They need to feel like shit, just like they made us feel," Arthur replied, feeling very much like the leader of their little gang.

"Sounds good. So, count me in. Got any ideas so far?" Lovino asked idly. Matthew squirmed in his seat, not having any ideas at all. Arthur, on the other hand, smirked wickedly, his eyes lighting up with eagerness.

"I say we _curse_ the wankers!" Arthur declared, pulling out his magic book with flourish. It should have been very impressive and awe-inspiring...except it really wasn't. Instead of being awed, Lovino and Matthew just stared at him, their expression perfectly deadpanned and unamused.

"Any _other_ ideas that don't involve 'magic', nor come from people who should really be living inside a mental home right now?" Lovino asked, rolling his eyes as Arthur fumed at his comment. He hated it when people mocked him because he appreciated the existence of all things magical and spiritual.

"Fuck off! I'll have you know that magic is real and you're just pathetically narrow-minded for not believing in it," Arthur hissed, brandishing his beloved book like a weapon. Lovino ducked it quickly, scowling as he did so.

"Well, excuse me for wanting some real fucking revenge!" the Italian hissed at him, causing Arthur to glare back, resisting the urge to smack the Italian with his magic book.

However their argument was cut short as the door to the café opened, revealing a certain Trio who were just a little bit more than fucked up. Antonio's lip was split and dripping blood down his chin. Though he had all of his teeth intact, his tongue would need at least five stitches. Gilbert's nose was most likely broken, considering that it was swollen and practically gushing the red stuff. Francis? Well his hope that Alfred wouldn't go for the face went straight down the toilet. He was sporting a black eye and a large gash down his temple.

They earnt the attention of all the students who were currently in the café. Antonio shrunk slightly behind Francis, feeling slightly shy from all the attention. Gilbert scoffed and flipped everyone off, pulling his two friends away to a nearby booth. The students who were in the booth instantly vacated it and a cackling Yong Soo skipped up to them to take their orders.

Their appearance caused Arthur's mouth to fall in shock, dropping his book to the floor as he did so. Matthew gasped quietly, his body trembling slightly and Lovino announced the one thing that everyone else was thinking.

"Shit!" he exclaimed, his eyes widening before ducking under the table, tugging on the sleeves belonging to the other two. Arthur rose his brows and sighed before joining him. Matthew would have been quite content with staying above the table, but after a harsh yank from an impatient Italian, he joined them underneath.

"This is stupid. We are so much better than this!" Arthur hissed, tucking his knees under his chin. Lovino hissed at him, his eyes burning with frustration and annoyance.

"I know that, you fucker! I just...I don't want him to see me. I don't want him to talk to me. I don't want any damn arguments getting in the way of me being mad at him," Lovino replied, wrinkling his nose.

Arthur blinked. "Yes, because that makes perfect sense," he stated, rolling his eyes. "Listen, _we_ dumped _them_. They have no right to come up to us and bother us about it! They should just accept that they've hurt us, that we've dumped them and move on!"

Now it was Lovino's turn to blink. "That's the most hypocritical thing I've ever heard. And I've heard shit-loads of hypocritical crap!"

Arthur hissed at him, smacking him in annoyance. "Shut. The. Fuck. Up!" he spat.

"You shut up! They'll fucking hear us, you stupid _idiota_!" Lovino snapped back, hitting the Brit back. Arthur simply rolled his eyes and flung his head in the opposite direction with a huff.

"Saying 'idiot' in a different language won't make it sound any smarter, or make it hurt at all. Idiot," he sighed, ignoring the Italian's sputtering."And _you_ shut up, if you don't want them hearing us and finding us hiding underneath this table like a bunch of fucking cowards!"

Matthew just sighed and clutched his polar-bear tighter to him. "It doesn't matter if I'm sat up there or down here. He wouldn't notice either way," he sighed sadly.

"Oh, shut up. You can shove it with your self-pity shit-fest. At least he didn't smack you!" Lovino snapped, turning to focus his glare on the Canadian. Arthur immediately jumped to Matthew's defense.

"What, and you aren't self-pitying at all? I must admit, his smacking of you shouldn't be excused, but how about the many times you hit him. I really believe that what you two had was unhealthy. You were always on then off and then on again. I think you should really stay apart this time," Arthur advised, rubbing Matthew's back with comfort. Lovino glared harshly.

"What, and you thought I was going to get back with him! What the fuck gave you that idea?" he asked, despite knowing the answer himself.

"You're still in love," Arthur stated calmly. "With your dick-head boyfriend who hurt you and broke your heart."

"...we all are," Matthew muttered, burying his face into his bear as they all sighed in unison. The atmosphere was tense and depressing, making Lovino feel uncomfortable to the highest degree. Wrinkling his nose, he decided to break the silence with the first question that came to his mind.

"So, what the fuck happened to _them_?" Lovino asked, quirking a brow with some amusement. However, he couldn't ignore the slight tinge of anger that had erupted when he saw Antonio's mouth dripping with blood.

"Uhhh..." Arthur and Matthew chorused hesitantly. They both glanced at each other and resisted a face-palm. Lovino cast them a suspicious glare and Arthur sighed as he flipped out his phone.

Pressing one, he waited for the obnoxious American to pick up. Matthew quirked a brow as he realised that Arthur had his brother, not only one speed-dial, but also as his number one. The Canadian decided to store such information away for blackmail purposes.

"_Yo bro'!_" Alfred's chirpy voice echoed down Arthur's ears, his volume loud enough to inform Lovino of who had hurt his ex-boyfriend. Lashing out a hand, he snatched the phone off Arthur, ignoring the Brit's protests.

"What the fuck did you do to him?" he hissed, glaring at the oblivious Trio. Matthew frowned slightly, eyeing Gilbert as the albino pressed more tissues to his bleeding nose. The Canadian bit his lip, resisting the urge to scold Gilbert for tipping his head back; however, judging from the sharp slap from Francis, the French boy had already beaten him to it.

"_Hey pissy Italian dude! Where's Arthur? Did he like what I did? Did Mattie? Why the fuck are _you_ talking to me?_" Alfred asked, giving Lovino a mild headache as he refused to lower his volume.

"I'm not pissy! Just answer the fucking question!" Lovino snapped, no longer caring of how loud he was being.

"_Duuuude~! I wanna talk to Arthur! You're way too pissed off and angry right now. You know, you remind me of Heracle's cat, 'Kitty'. Damn, he is one nasty bitch. Not saying that you're a nasty bitch, it's just that...well, you are. Sometimes. Put Arthur on the phoooooone~!_" Alfred whined, causing Lovino's eye to twitch as he threw the phone back to the frustrated Brit next to him.

"Alfred? Honestly, what the actual fuck did you do?" Arthur asked, pinching the bridge of his nose as he tried to remain calm.

"_Totally taught their asses why you shouldn't fuck with me! Dude, you shoulda seen them, it was freaking awesome!_" Alfred said, his voice brimming with joy and enthusiasm. Arthur's eye twitched, his mouth strained into a tight smile.

"I bet it was, you stupid, oblivious git!" he replied, sighing with exasperation.

"_Why are you yelling at me!_" Arthur decided not to point out that Alfred was being highly hypocritical by yelling himself. "_What I did was totally kick-ass and awesome! Dude, I totally told you I was your hero and BAM! I totally upped the hero-status earlier_!"

Arthur growled. "Alfred, you're not Superman and they're not...uh, they're not whoever Superman fights," he mumbled, totally clueless to the world of Superman as he was the total opposite of Alfred who was a standard, generic comic-geek.

"_Woah. Bro' they could totally be like G_e_neral Zod's evil military minions! Dude! It would be so freaking cool if they were, 'cause I totally kicked their freaking asses_!" Alfred exclaimed, and Arthur could genuinely see him bouncing with joy. Arthur blinked, knowing that nothing would get through to Alfred in his current state.

"Matthew. Talk to him," he stated, throwing the phone to the younger boy. Fumbling as he caught it, Matthew sighed and gingerly placed the phone to his ear.

"...Alfred, why did you do that? We told you not to! They didn't even screw around with you!" Matthew ranted, his soft voice gaining pitch and volume.

"_MATTIE~! You know, you totally sounded like a girl then! And they so _did_ fuck with me! They fucked with my baby brother and my best friend!_" Alfred replied, not really getting the fact that Matthew didn't appreciate being called a girl.

"So therein, you took it upon yourself to declare that they've fucked with you as well. And why did you beat up Antonio? You don't even like Lovino!" Matthew stated, holding his bear tighter to his chest.

"_'Kay, dude. As I've said before. Don't swear. You'll give me a fucking heart attack. And...uh, I didn't really get what you said at first, so I'm just gonna nod and say FUCK YEAH!_" Alfred declared, effectively deafening the three boys listening to him.

"Alfred. Why did you hurt Antonio?" Matthew asked, inching away from a certain hissing Italian who kept glaring at him.

"_Are you kidding? Pissy Italian Dude may piss me off sometimes, but I'll take any opportunity I can get to fuck up those three bastards AND up my hero-status even more!_" Alfred replied enthusiastically.

"Alfred, this isn't one of your RPG games, where you get points for every villain you beat up!" Matthew said, rubbing his head as he felt a headache approaching.

"..._it would be so fucking cool if I did~! But whatever, what's done is done and all that shit! I beat up your boyfriends, upped my hero-status, gave those fuckers what was coming to them and defended your honor! Every-fucking-body is happy_!" Alfred declared.

"You could get in trouble!" Matthew warned. Not that Alfred cared.

"_Dude, don't really care!_" See. Told you. "_Besides, they ain't gonna say shit! 'Cause I told them that if they did, then I would tear off their balls and then cast them in iron. Then I would totally mount them on a display in the school's gymnasium, so everyone could laugh at how tiny they are whenever we have an assembly!_" Alfred replied happily.

"Alfred, you can't keep doing thi—" Matthew started, feeling his annoyance grow as his brother cut him off.

"_Woah, dude. I have a cute Japanese boy on the other line! Can we cut this short_?" Alfred asked chirpily.

"Don't you dare put me on hold!" Matthew said, his tone was fucking dripping with danger. Eyes widening with shock, Arthur and Lovino found themselves backing away with fear.

"_Dude, I'm not putting you on hold. What kind of crazy person do you take me for_?" Alfred asked, practically incredulous.

"Oh, then what are yo—" the Canadian began.

"_I'm hanging up on you_!" Alfred declared to him.

"Alfred!" Matthew scolded.

"_See ya bro'_!" Then, a dialing tone.

The Canadian gripped the phone tightly and hissed. "That fucker hung up on me!"

Arthur quirked a brow and managed to ease his phone out of the Canadian's grip before it was destroyed. Arthur knew that beneath Matthew's soft physical appearance, lies the strength of a hockey-player who could crush a phone to pieces easily.

"Wow. He just defines the word 'stupid', doesn't he?" Lovino hissed, eyes flashing with annoyance. Arthur gritted his teeth; only two people were allowed to call Alfred 'stupid' and they were underneath the table with Lovino. No one else had that privilege and Arthur was going to make sure that Lovino understood that.

"Hey! He did it for _us_; he defended _us_! Don't go calling someone stupid, when you should feel touched that they bothered to do anything for you!" he snapped back, shoving his phone back into his pocket. Lovino scoffed and rolled his eyes.

"Okay, one, I didn't ask the bastard to do that for me and two, he only did it to 'up his hero-status' because, newsflash, he's that _stupid_!" Lovino spat back. Arthur glared back, growling slightly at the Italian.

"You want to know what's really stupid? Hiding under a fucking table because you're too cowardly to face up to your boyfriend!" Arthur retorted, his eyes flashing with anger.

"_Ex_-boyfriend! And if you're so fucking brave, why are you hiding under the table with me?" Lovino demanded, his face flushing red.

"I never called myself brave, you stupid git!" Arthur snapped. "And you practically dragged me under the table!"

"I fucking did not!"

"Did too!"

"Fuck off! I didn't!"

"Did. Too."

"Fuck. Off. And. Die."

"You."

"You!"

Matthew watched as they bickered quietly, shaking his head and returning his attention to the group of boys they were hiding from. His eyes stung slightly, as he watched Gilbert sulk and slouch down in his chair whilst Francis and Antonio conversed with him. It made a place in Matthew's heart twinge a little and he found that his throat had constricted ever-so-slightly. His albino ex-boyfriend, despite the bloodied nose and twisted scowl, looked simply beautiful as always. It hurt. It really did.

He was supposed to hate Gilbert right now; not appreciate how beautiful he looked.

Matthew sighed sadly and, unbeknownst to him, the soft sound had managed to reach the ears of a certain canary. The fluffy, yellow ball popped out of Gilbert's hair immediately, chirping with delight. He knew that sigh of sadness anywhere! And how had he not noticed that maple-scent before?

His pancake-boy was here!

Fluffing himself up with excitement, Gilbird shuffled himself out of the white locks of hair, and pushed himself off of his stupid master's head. Normally Gilbird would never, ever call his darling master 'stupid', but the bird knew that right now, it was the only thing that could describe Gilbert accurately. Especially seeing as he had broken the heart of his pancake-boy. And Gilbird missed those pancakes so damn much. Mentally giving his master a farewell tweet, Gilbird flew off in the direction of the pancake-scent.

Sadly, Gilbert had not heard the tweet, as he was too busy complaining about being served eggs at the café, which in all honesty, was a crime worse than murder in Gilbert's eyes. After all, that egg could have been a long-lost, distant relative of Gilbird's and he couldn't eat something that may or may not be related to his baby!

Whilst Gilbert was distracted, Gilbird felt like he was free to follow the maple-scent across the café. He found that it led towards a booth in the furthest corner away from his master. Except there was no one sat there...instead, they had chosen to sit under the table. Tweeting sadly, Gilbird realised that the pancake-boy was avoiding his master. However, he also picked up the scents of tea and a strange combination of potato mixed with tomato.

He knew that they were the boys that his master's friends often mated with and figured that they were avoiding their exes as well.

Fluffing up, Gilbird refused to waste anymore time and flew over in record time. He dived under the table and chirped happily, surprising the boys that hid under the table immediately.

"PIYO~!" the bird chirped.

"Bloody hell!" the tea-boy said.

"What the fuck is that?" the potato-boy said.

"Gilbird!" his pancake-boy exclaimed.

"Piyo! Piyo! Piyo!" Gilbird chirped and fluttered.

He hovered in front of Matthew's face, chirping happily at finding his master's pancake-boy. However, he knew that his master had wronged the pancake-boy, so he decided against going back to tell him that his pancake-boy was actually nearby. Instead, he was quite content with peeping loudly in front of the hiding trio.

"Shut him the fuck up!" Lovino hissed. "They're going to fucking find us!"

Matthew despaired, trying to shush the little bird before them. Gilbird was honestly oblivious to their frustration and continued to peep out his joy. He had missed the pancake-boy incredibly and couldn't help but voice his affections out loud.

"Please Gilbird, keep quiet! I'll uh, I'll buy you something if you do! A new hat, maybe? Or some bird-seed? Oh! I'll...uh...make you some pancakes?" Matthew asked desperately, blinking nervously under Lovino's heated glare.

At the mention of promised pancakes, Gilbird gave one last loud chirp before settling down comfortably in Matthew's hair. The Canadian wilted a little, but didn't bother kicking off. Gilbird could be very loud and very spiteful when he wanted. Even with the promise of fluffy, warm pancakes. Sighing, he reluctantly turned to face the other two, who appeared to be quite mystified with the whole ordeal.

"Well. I suppose kidnapping the freak's bird could count as revenge, right?" Lovino stated, twitching slightly at the sight.

Arthur sighed. "Today really hasn't gone as well as I'd thought it would have done," he sighed, glancing at a certain Frenchman under his lashes. Alfred had really gone to town on his face and Arthur was torn between feeling proud and feeling dismayed.

"Okay, fuck today, Today doesn't count! Tomorrow though, we officially begin this..._thing_. Okay?" Lovino stated. Arthur nodded in agreement.

"It will also give us time to think over any ideas we have in making them pay for what they did, yes?" he asked, glancing at the other two boys under the table. They nodded in unison. Matthew giggled slightly as Lovino gave them a triumphant grin.

"Shit is going down and it begins with our revenge!" he declared.

"Revenge was totally invented in Korea, you know?" Im Yong Soo stated, as he casually walked past their table. He had known where they were the whole time. After all, it wasn't the best hiding place in the world and they weren't the first people to use a table to hide from their significant others. Or ex-significant others, in their case. Plus, Yong Soo felt that he would be a pretty poor waiter if didn't know where his customers were at all times.

"We know," the three boys chorused, agreeing with him easily.

They knew that it just wouldn't do to argue with someone who could easily out their hiding position.

Or put poison in their food, for that matter.

* * *

><p><strong>A wild Gilbird has appeared! ^_^<strong>

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	7. How To Kick Start This Shit Again

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><p><span>Chapter 7 - How To Kick-Start This Shit. Again.<span>

Arthur knew that if at first you don't succeed, try, try again.

Arthur also knew that hell hath no fury like a woman scorned.

Yesterday, the meeting hadn't gone as planned seeing as they spent the majority of their lunchtime hiding under a table. However, as they watched their exes converse with one another, they all began to feel that burning rage simmering under the surface. Their exes, despite appearances, didn't look all that upset at all. They had been joking and smiling and for some reason, that just pissed them off. As such again, they all agreed to prove that hell may hath no fury like a woman scorned, but not even a woman would be able to hold a candle when compared to them.

They had all agreed to meet early outside 'The Café Around The Corner' for breakfast, hoping that it would be empty and that Im Yong Soo would have the morning off. If the café was empty, then they were safe from having their plans getting overheard by other students and if Yong Soo had the morning off, then they would be safe of the eavesdropping Korean who would most likely tell everyone of their plans even if they bribed him not to.

Luckily for them, Yao was working solo as the morning shift was always a slow one for the café. He was far more reliable than Yong Soo, as Yao was capable of keeping his mouth shut and knew how intrusive eavesdropping was. Personal experience taught him that due to a certain Russian that wouldn't leave him alone.

It was Lovino who arrived first, wanting to get away from his brother's 'hug-therapy' as fast as physically possible. Whilst he waited, he ordered a cappuccino milkshake and was rather delighted at seeing his drink created properly. He didn't think he could tolerate an Italian drink being ruined two days on the run. As he sipped at it, he turned away from the bar and realised that he wasn't the first one to arrive.

Sitting in a booth across from him was Matthew, clutching his bear and smiling softly at Lovino. He was once again dressed in his over-sized hoodie and had a plate of pancakes sitting in front of him. After snorting much of the milkshake up his nose, Lovino gagged and started to freak out.

"What the hell? You freaky fucker! How long have you been here?" he demanded, stalking over to the Canadian and sitting down with a huff. "Are you half-fucking-ninja or something?"

The Canadian just laughed. "Or something. I helped Yao Wang open the café up. In return he gave me some free pancakes," he stated, tearing off a piece and feeding it to the 'kidnapped' bird that sat on his shoulder. Gilbird nibbled at it delicately, trying hard to not get any in Matthew's hair.

Meanwhile, Gilbert had spent the night freaking the shit out, due to the fact that his baby was missing and how could his baby live without his mummy, really? Unfortunately, his freaking out meant that Francis and Antonio failed to get any sleep as well.

Lovino's eye just twitched. "You...you kept the bird?" he asked incredulously. Geez, he definitely would have cooked that freaky little shit ages ago. Gilbird peeped in annoyance, knowing exactly what the tomato-boy, who used to smell of potatoes, was thinking of.

Matthew just smiled. "Of course, he won't leave me alone. Even when I bribed him with more pancakes to leave, he just stayed," he explained, tearing off a small piece of pancake and fed it to the bird. Gilbird took it with a delighted chirp and fluffed up in pleasure.

"That's just fucking creepy. No offense," Lovino stated, eyeing the bird warily. Gilbird just stuck his beak in the air, ignoring the foul-mouthed Italian easily.

"None taken...although you should watch what you say around him. He's quite sensitive as of late," Matthew warned, stroking Gilbird softly. The bird cooed and nuzzled into the finger, causing Matthew to smile sweetly. Lovino shook his head in disbelief and just as he was about to ask how the fuck a bird could be sensitive, a voice cut across him smoothly.

"Ah gentlemen, I see you're both here. And on time too. How bloody miraculous!" a British voice exclaimed. Lovino turned to chew the boy out, but couldn't help the eye-twitch when he saw Arthur stride towards them. He was dressed smartly in his uniform and had a large board tucked under his arms.

"What the hell is that?" Lovino exclaimed, his eyebrows almost disappearing under his fringe. Arthur just smirked triumphantly.

"This, gentlemen, is a flip-chart. I spent all last night gathering my thoughts together and came up with this!" he declared, presenting the boys with said large flip-chart.

On the first sheet, he had drawn little pictures of their ex-boyfriends and then drew a bubble around them. Arthur was quite the artist when he was pissed off and used his angry feelings to give him motivation if mocking the looks of their exes. Mini-Francis was now lacking hair, whilst mini-Antonio had buck-teeth. Mini-Gilbert, on the other hand, was presented with a large nose. Arthur figured that he would use some creative license with the albino's self-proclaimed 'five meters'.

"Wait, what the actual fuck is all this?" Lovino asked, incredulous at seeing how much effort Arthur had put into this. "And what the fuck have you done to them?"

"This revenge will be dignified, clever and subtle. It needs to be well thought out and planned before it takes place. Obviously, I had some issues with drawing them, but I got over it. Eventually. Will these answers suffice for now, you annoying wanker!" he hissed.

Lovino hissed back. Matthew just sighed and Gilbird wondered why he had gone from one group of idiots to another group of idiots, albeit smarter ones.

"U-Um, what is that for anyway?" Matthew asked, breaking the atmosphere slightly. Arthur turned to look at him with a pleasant smile.

"It's our plan. I have come up with four questions that could help us in developing our revenge into something sophisticated and well-thought out. I will need your full co-operation and I need these questions to be answered properly! Understood?" Arthur asked, pacing slightly. He reminded the two other boys of a Drill Sergeant. Or their Sport's teacher. Which ever one was scariest.

"My fucking God. Are you actually serious? This is just like being back at fucking school! This is Goddamned ridiculous!" Lovino complained. Matthew silently agreed, but decided against vocalising anything negative towards Arthur. The Canadian knew how scary Arthur could be from time to time and he certainly wasn't stupid enough to incite said scariness.

"Just go with it now and you can complain later, all right?" Arthur said, his tone sounding slightly mocking. Flipping him off, Lovino complied.

"Fine bastard. What did you want to ask?" he questioned, tilting his head slightly.

"Right. First question: what did they do?" Arthur stated, drawing an arrow coming off the bubble. Lovino scoffed and turned his head away from the flip-chart.

"We already said what those bastards did to us," Lovino stated, rolling his eyes as he regarded Arthur's question as plain ridiculous. The Brit just smirked at him, tapping his fingers on the table.

"We all gave a brief outline. In order for this revenge to be perfect, you will need to share with the rest of the class, exactly what Antonio did," Arthur replied condescendingly. He then straightened up and crossed his arms. Lovino refused to speak and Matthew continued on with his suicide attempt via suffocation. "Fine. If that's how you two are going to act, then I'll go first. The other day I had set up an elaborate plan to celebrate the first anniversary between Francis and I. You both didn't notice, but I had managed to coerce the pair of you to ensure that Gilbert and Antonio wouldn't be in their dormitory for the night," he began, much to the amusement of Lovino and the discomfort of Matthew.

"S-So when you gave me those cinema tickets...you were just using me in order to get Gilbert out of the way?" Matthew asked, confused at how complicated Arthur made his plans.

"Ah. And I guess it was you that talked to my idiot brother, who convinced me to take that bastard out for the night," Lovino stated, quirking a brow. He was rather impressed.

Arthur nodded, waving off their realizations. "Anyway, after managing to ignore and avoid the pervert for the whole day, I crept into his dorm at...around eight-ish. I don't know. The point is that I waited for him. On his bed. Dressed...um, rather um, inappropriately, you could say," the Brit said, his face growing pink towards the end. Lovino just laughed, whilst Matthew appear absolutely scandalized.

"Y-You didn't? Oh...that's so...so..." Matthew trailed off, not actually having a word at his disposal to describe how unnerved he was.

"So...kinky? I never thought you of all people would stoop so low to that level of perverted-ness!" Lovino declared, his honey-eyes filled with mirth. Unbeknownst to the embarrassed Brit, Lovino was actually far kinkier than he let on. What Arthur didn't know was that, whilst he may dress up for his ex-boyfriend, Lovino had fun _tying up_ his.

"Th-that's not the point! Anyway, I-I waited for him. For quite some time, a-and...and just as I was about to g-give up and leave, h-he came in. W-With Michelle. With M-Michelle's tongue in...in his mouth and h-his hands u-up her shirt," Arthur stammered, his face going from red to white in a manner of seconds.

It pained him to say it. It nearly killed him to say it. Yet he managed to force every last word out of his mouth without fail. His tone was sharp and bitter and he was pretty sure that the lump in his throat wasn't there when he had first started to speak.

"We should cut his dick off!" Lovino hissed. He absolutely hated cheaters. Arthur chuckled humorlessly, running a hand through his hair roughly.

"Yeah, well...your turn," he said, his tone still a little bit sad. Lovino remained stubborn however, making a zipping motion across his lips, slowly and deliberately.

Matthew fingered his bear's ear, chewing his lip as he deliberated over whether or not he could tell them. Arthur just threw his heart out for all to see, so why couldn't Matthew do the same. After all, the worst they could do was laugh at him. Or kick him out of their 'club' for not having a valid enough reason for wanting revenge. Oh. Whatever. Matthew sighed; he was a hockey-playing, pancake-making Canadian. He could do _anything_!

"Gilbert forgets that I'm his boyfriend," he stated, breaking the tense atmosphere that surrounded them after Arthur's story. He said it as quickly as he could, hoping that the saying about plasters, 'rip it off quick; it will hurt less', would also apply to his situation. Thinking about, Matthew still reckoned that no matter how quickly he said something, it still hurt him to no end in saying it.

"Forgets about you?" Arthur asked, his brows rose in confusion. "You were his bloody boyfriend! How can he forget something like that?"

Matthew snorted softly. "The same way Francis forgets about you whenever a pretty girl or boy walks past him," he murmured, causing Arthur to flinch slightly. "Sorry! That was insensitive! I'm really sorry!" Matthew garbled, biting his lip as he felt guilty for pointing it out. Lovino just scoffed.

"So your dickhead ex-boyfriend forgot about you because some pretty girl walked past. I did that to the fucking tomato-choker all the time!" he exclaimed. Matthew sighed, rubbing his chin into his bear's soft head again. Gilbird, meanwhile, had taken to burrowing deeply into Matthew's hair, hoping that it would muffle the sounds of Matthew's voice as he told his friends what Gilbert did to him. The bird really didn't want to hear such information out loud.

"But I can bet that you never kissed those girls in front of him. Or asked for their number. And then only threw them out because you remembered Antonio was with you," Matthew insisted. Lovino wanted to retort that, yes, he may have never kissed those girls but no, he always remembered Antonio was with him and that's why he flirted with them. It was fun getting the bastard jealous; it made up for all the times the Spaniard went off to flirt with that Belgium girl.

"Carry on Matthew," Arthur insisted, feeling like the peace-maker in their little group. Matthew nodded and sighed.

"U-Um, anyway. Gilbert had the tendency to just use me. Like when Francis was with you Arthur and Antonio was out with you Lovino, he would always come to me. Now if he had his friends around, he never would have given me a second thought. Unless we were all going to 'The Boombox', then he would spontaneously remember that I existed and would come and get me to come out. Then he would blank me in favour of the more attractive and fun people that go to that club. He's never told me that he loved me. He's never done anything or bought anything nice for me. He always forgets I'm there, even if I'm stood right next to him. I-I'm nothing to him!" Matthew cried, his voice hitching up a little.

Gilbird popped out of Matthew's hair and cooed sadly in the boy's ear. However, Matthew didn't register it as he was too busy waiting for Arthur and Lovino to laugh at him for his silly insecurities. He had expected them to laugh and scoff and tell him off for behaving in such a stupid manner. He had expected them to just roll their eyes and remark at how ridiculous his story was compared to theirs. What he hadn't expected was the stunned silence and the looks of disgust on their faces.

The disgust wasn't aimed at him though. It was aimed at Gilbert.

"What. A. Bastard," Lovino stated incredulously. He never thought that Gilbert was capable of reaching such levels of stupidity, but lo and behold, the retard had managed to surprise him.

"Matthew, we'll get him back for this. He'll suffer ten times what you did. Promise," Arthur vowed, reaching out to ruffle Matthew's hair softly.

The Canadian blinked at how kind they were being to him, and couldn't help but blush under the attention he was receiving. Gilbird cooed, nuzzling under Matthew's chin with a sigh. His stupid master was stupid, but he would have thought that his master would have at least told the Canadian how he felt. Arthur retracted his hand, and then placed it on his hip.

"Well Lovino. Your turn," he stated, giving the Italian his full-frontal death glare. Matthew wilted slightly and if looks could kill, then he knew that Lovino would be nothing more than a cremated pile of pasta shapes.

The Italian sighed. He owed these two fuck all in terms of throwing his story into their faces. So they told him their stories, that didn't necessarily mean he had to do the same. He wasn't under any obligation or oath. Fuck that shit.

"Like I said, Antonio slapped me," he said lazily, ignoring their twin glares of annoyance. He sighed as they continued to glare at him. And then Gilbird joined in and dammit! He could have sworn that Matthew's bear was also glaring at him! "Alright! So we were arguing at first, but whatever."

Arthur, determined to get the full story, placed both hands on his hips and scowled. "You want to give them the revenge they deserve? Then we need to hear everything!" he stated firmly. "We told you exactly what those bastards did to us; the least you could do is pay us the same respect and tell us what Antonio did to you. It's only fair!"

Lovino rolled his eyes and huffed. "Jesus fucking Christ. Alright...so we went out before the argument. Some fancy, schmancy French restaurant that your dickhead ex-froggy recommended. I'm a vegetarian and I specifically told him not to order me anything with meat in. And he was only ordering for me 'cause apparently he can speak French. Turns out, he speaks the most pathetic amount of French in the world. Instead of asking, like any normal person, the bastard decided to just order what he could recognize. Unfortunately for me, he ordered me rabbit salad."

"W-Wait. Please don't tell me you argued over food," Arthur asked, his eyebrows raised high.

"Shut. The. Hell. Up. And as I recall, you once argued over a _napkin_ with your froggy ex-boyfriend, so don't even go there with me. Bastard. Anyway, we did argue over food. Which then lead to us arguing over something else entirely. Then he said some pretty horrible shit, I called him an idiot. He hit me. The end," Lovino rushed through his story, tearing apart the straw in his drink as he did so.

It lead to a pretty bleak and depressive silence, before Matthew coughed and broke it. "Well, what did he say?" he asked, feeling either very stupid, or very brave.

Lovino thought he was being very stupid. "Pretty. Horrible. Shit. Okay? That's all you're getting out of me, so get over it!" he hissed, causing the Canadian to shrink back in his seat. Arthur just sighed and rubbed his temples.

"You ought to get over yourself. Bloody git," he muttered. He scribbled down the words: 'cheated', 'neglected' and 'slapped' at the end of the arrow."Right, I think we'll leave that question there then."

"Oh, thank fuck for that," Lovino sneered, flicking pieces of straw off the table. Arthur ignored him.

"Next question: what did we do?" he asked, a second arrow leading off in another direction from the bubble. Lovino hissed at the question and crossed his arms moodily.

"Fuck. All. That's what we did!" Lovino spat, glaring at the little mini-Antonio on the paper. The cartoon resembled the Spaniard quite well. You know, besides the teeth. But it did, with the big eyes and the messy hair and the cute smile and the—no. Nuh, uh. The fucking cartoon can go and kill itself, because Lovino refused to admire it any longer, 'cause in doing so, he was indirectly admiring Antonio. And that just wouldn't do.

"We probably did something. It's only right to figure that much out before we lose ourselves too much in our revenge," Arthur explained. Lovino couldn't care less though.

"Shut up. We did nothing. At the very least, I did nothing!" he insisted, getting more and more worked up about it.

"Actually, we must have done something to have caused them to act how they did. You must have annoyed Antonio too much, maybe that's why he slapped you," Matthew whispered, wilting under the ferocious glare that Lovino was giving him. The Italian was so not happy with his accusations.

"What the hell? Me annoy him? If that's true, then what the hell did you do to make that freak ignore you? Did you bore him too fucking much?" Lovino spat mockingly. The Canadian flinched, clenching his fists with frustration. Gilbird was fluffed up in anger and dived down from Matthew's hair to bite the Italian on the nose.

"Piyo!" he spat, angry at how the tomato-boy felt that he could just oh-so-casually hurt his pancake-boy.

"Ack! Keep that motherfucking bird away from me!" Lovino spat, lashing out a hand to smack the awesome bird away. However, Matthew, in all of his Canadian with the reflexes of a true athlete, caught the hand in midair and glared at the Italian hard.

"Don't. Hit. Him." Each word was dripping with more danger than ever before. His pretty violet eyes darkened to a murky purple, causing the Italian to yelp slightly and retract his hand as if burnt.

"He's possessed!" Lovino cried, eyes widening as he shuffled away as far as possible from the angry Canadian. Arthur just allowed his head to fall to the table and let the biggest sigh in the world.

"Please stop fighting. We're supposed to direct all negative emotions to our pissing ex-boyfriends, not each other. Wankers," Arthur stated, narrowing his eyes at the pair before him. Matthew stopped glaring, his eyes returning to their pretty, violet colour, as he turned to Arthur with an apologetic look on his face.

"Sorry Arthur," he said, burying his face into his bear's fur. Lovino tutted and turned to the Brit.

"Yeah, yeah. What-fucking-ever," he stated, glaring off into space. It was probably the closet thing to an apology that Arthur would get out of him, so he accepted it easily. Turning to look at the board, he gazed at the second arrow he had drawn. Once again, leave it to him to be the mature one and go first.

"I guess...I shouldn't have avoided him like that. Or maybe I shouldn't have protested every time he wanted sex. Maybe...m-maybe I should have just let hi—" Arthur started, his tone getting all depressed again. Luckily, Lovino managed to interrupt him before he started bawling his eyes out in a dark corner somewhere.

"Fuck. That. Shit! You did fuck all! Yeah, you hear some famous person state that you must have done something wrong. You get the odd bitch saying that you weren't pretty enough, fun enough or flexible enough. Well listen here, bastard! I'm the only bitch you listen to! And I say you did fuck all to that perverted bastard! It was his fault. He couldn't keep it in his pants and instead of worrying about what's so bad about yourself, you should freaking celebrate. You just got rid of a toxic relationship! Halle-fucking-lujah!" Lovino snapped heatedly. Last night, Feliciano thought that watching chick-flicks together would cheer the older Italian up. Lovino loathed to admit it but they worked.

Arthur blinked, swallowed hard to get rid of the lump in his throat. "Th-Thank you. I-I never thought that you of all people could say something so ni—"

"But yeah, you totally shouldn't have avoided him like that. Probably made him sex-starved or something. No wonder he couldn't keep his hands of Michelle. She's really pretty!" Lovino declared, officially destroying any positive feelings Arthur had towards the boy.

"Never-pissing-mind," Arthur spat, his eyes burning with annoyance. "I guess your fault _was_ annoying him too much. I'm surprised he didn't snap sooner after being with you!"

Lovino just scoffed, ignoring the unsettling feeling in his stomach and flipped Arthur off. "Fuck. You."

Matthew sighed. "I-I don't really know what I did...or didn't do..." he trailed off. He was actually talking to Gilbird, stroking the bird's feathers sadly. However, Lovino and Arthur had both managed to hear him, leading to the first, and probably last thing they agreed on.

"You did nothing," they chorused, leaving Matthew's face to blush heavily. Lovino smirked, despite the fact that he had just contradicted himself from moments beforehand. Arthur sighed slightly, knowing they wouldn't get anywhere if they continued on like this.

"Okay, forget this question then," he said, drawing little question marks at the end of the arrow. Lovino chuckled.

"Screw that question. It doesn't really matter if we did something or not, right? This question is fucking bullshit. All it does is make you pity yourselves and that's fucking stupid!" he declared, smirking at them.

"Riiiight," Arthur drawled. "Third question: who is on our side?" Then he drew another arrow leading off the bubble. At the end of the arrow, he printed out Alfred's name neatly. "This one is obvious. We already have 'Captain America' standing by us. Who else?"

"Why the fuck do we need to know that?" Lovino asked, eyebrows scrunched up in confusion.

"I guess it's good to know that we have back-up if a plan fails...or not," Matthew muttered, stroking his bear's fur absentmindedly. Lovino scoffed at his actions and flicked the Canadian on the ear. He was then nipped rather viciously by a certain yellow ball of awesome, who didn't appreciate his friend being flicked.

"Ack! Stupid bird!" Lovino hissed, glaring at the bird hatefully. Matthew gasped and attempted to console the poor thing.

"Lovino! Don't say that! I said that and I had to make him at least twenty pancakes before he forgave me!" Matthew stated in astonishment. "And you deserved it. So don't flick me!" Gilbird's beady black eyes glared down at the Italian, nodding his head sternly.

Lovino's eye just twitched. "The bird is just a bird. He's not a fucking human!"

Matthew opened his mouth to retort, but Arthur cut across him quickly.

"Can we please focus here people?" the Brit snapped. "Matthew is right, the more people on our side, the more resources and ideas we can pull together!"

"I thought it was just going to be us three here!" Lovino complained, not liking the idea of other people knowing his business.

"It is just going to be us three. Everyone else will...be background noise. Understand?" Arthur asked, trying as hard as he could to remain calm.

"Fine," the Italian hissed. "You can put down my idiot brother and his potato-fucking boyfriend down as well. The freak may be his brother, but Feli has that bastard wrapped around his finger. Like he fucking should be! Potato-humping bastard that he is!"

Arthur wrinkled his nose at the insult, but wrote down the names regardless. "Right. I suppose we could add Kiku to the list...which means we have a grand total of...four people. Really? Just four? That's pathetic!" he said, annoyed at how little support they had.

Matthew licked his lips nervously and coughed to get the Brit's attention. "Y-You could add...um, Lars Jansen...onto the list. He's my...um, friend. He wasn't very happy with Gilbert treating me like trash, and sort of offered to...um, 'do away with him' or something," he stuttered, his face steadily growing pink.

Arthur and Lovino just blinked at him.

"Some friend of yours offered to kill your ex-boyfriend? Are you sure he's just a friend?" Arthur asked, a little bewildered that someone who was 'just a friend' would offer to do such a thing. Unless Lars was like Alfred, but Arthur highly doubted that there was anyone who was like Alfred in the world.

Matthew flushed, biting his lip and fiddling with the toggles on his hoodie.

"E-Eh? O-oh...he doesn't like m-me like that! He likes girls! He told me so himself!" Matthew insisted, feeling his face grow hotter and hotter by the second.

"Well, not being funny or anything...but you do look like a girl. You even sound like one! I'm wouldn't be surprised if that fucking pervert came up to you with a skirt and offered to play 'dress-up' with you," Lovino scoffed, rolling his eyes at Matthew's protests.

"N-No! Lars isn't...he doesn't...why would...just no!" he cried, shaking his head quickly. Lovino just scoffed, which quickly turned into another painful cry, as Gilbird began to chew on his finger.

"PIYO!" Gilbird chirped, as Lovino flicked him away to tend to his bleeding finger. Matthew just sighed, holding the irate bird close to him.

"You really ought to leave him alone," Matthew warned. Lovino just scoffed.

"Yeah, and you 'ought' to keep a damned leash on that beast!" the Italian snapped back. Arthur just sighed again.

"Listen! We need to stop fighting!" he snapped, understandably pissed. "This plan will not work, if we're just going to continuously bite each others heads off!"

Lovino turned to face him, fully annoyed and ready to snap. "What fucking plan? We haven't got a plan because you were too busy asking us stupid questions!" he spat. Arthur merely rose his brows and smirked.

"Maybe if you're prepared to shut up and listen, then maybe we can get to that bit!" he hissed back, green-eyes glinting dangerously. Lovino swallowed slightly, wilting under the glare. Lovino had balls, but he also had brains. He knew when and when not to start a fight.

"Y-Yeah. Sure. What-the fuck-ever," he muttered, turning to glare at the table.

"So, last question: what should we do and why?" Arthur stated, perking up immediately, drawing the last arrow on his diagram. Lovino frowned at the question and cocked his head to the side.

"Why are we questioning what we're doing to them? Newsflash, they deserve everything they get coming! We don't question shit like that! We do it and we do it whilst laughing!" he declared, crossing his arms with a huff.

"I want this to be a clever revenge. I don't want this to become a war of 'we do something, they do something back'. I want this to be clever, sneaky and for them to never find out what we're doing. Until the grand finale, where we hit them where it hurts and we reveal ourselves. But before then, we need to punish them. But in a way so that it suits the crime they committed!" Arthur declared. Matthew smiled wryly.

"Arthur, you should have chosen Law instead English Literature for your major. You're pretty good at it," he complimented, his smile growing as Arthur shifted uncomfortably.

"Yeah, yeah. The Brit makes a good lecturer. Anybody could've told you that!" Lovino snapped, rolling his eyes with another huff.

Arthur threw a glare at him, before deciding that he'll be _mature_ and _grown-up_ and ignore the silly little Italian bitch that dared mock him.

"Any. Ideas. Please," he said through gritted teeth. The pair before him hummed in thought, before Matthew perked up. It really wasn't like him to come up with something, but he had the idea in his head all night and it wouldn't hurt to suggest it. After all, it wasn't as if they were going to use it or anything.

"Make them jealous? It's obvious, but it could work. We could show them that we've moved on with our lives and that we don't need them to have fun," Matthew suggested, making Gilbird chirp sadly in his ear. He really didn't like the thought of Gilbert getting hurt and he really didn't like the thought of Matthew moving on from his master so quickly.

Arthur nodded encouragingly. "Exactly. We could go to 'The Boombox', that's their favourite club right now, right?" he asked, knowing the answer anyway. He had been yanked and dragged to that club many times during the course of his relationship with Francis. He hadn't actually minded going to it, it was just the prospect of knowing that Francis wouldn't exactly act like a proper boyfriend would act. Meaning he would much rather dance with the nearest thing with a nice pair of legs.

Matthew sighed, the same thought running through his mind. "I don't really like clubbing," he muttered, remembering all the times he stood and watched as Gilbert flirted with ten other people in the room. Lovino, meanwhile, tutted at him and smirked.

"You don't need to go clubbing. You have Laaaars~!" he drawled, singing out the Dutch boy's name. Matthew blushed and shook his head furiously.

"I-I couldn't! I'm not like that!" he snapped, his face burning brightly. Gilbird chirped sharply at the Italian's words, almost as a warning that he ought to think about what he said next.

"Well you better start! It was your damn suggestion anyway!" Lovino insisted, flicking the Canadian's ear lazily.

"I...didn't think you would actually go with it!" Matthew cried out in protest.

Arthur smirked. "Too late, it's going on the board!" he declared, scrawling out 'jealousy' next to the fourth arrow. Matthew chewed his lip nervously, wondering if they were just messing around with him again. He liked Lars...but he was just so intimidating. How could Matthew use him to make Gilbert jealous?

"So, any other ideas?" Arthur asked, clapping his hands together. He was actually a little excited about the whole ordeal.

"We could...use some public humiliation," Lovino started slowly, his eyes glinting. "Not your generic, cliché humiliation, like stealing their clothes whilst they're showering during Sports. They would enjoy that, the sick bastards. I'm thinking...flag pole, post-it notes, glue, permanent marker and some rope. Don't look at me as if I'm fucking insane, just go with it!" he insisted, his mind mulling over the revenge it had produced.

He wasn't going to give away the full details. After all, his idea would be much better suited to a...grand finale, of sorts. He resisted cackling out loud as Arthur wrote out 'Lovino's fucked up mind' on the board, giving him a suspicious glare. "Right, so. Anything else? Come on people, we need ideas here! I thought you'd be flowing with them!"

Matthew frowned. "What about you? You haven't said anything yet!" he said, clearly annoyed that the Brit was bossing them about so much.

Arthur chewed on the pen thoughtfully, mulling over Matthew's words. "Well...like I said. We need a punishment to suit the crimes committed. A smart plan. One that will teach them not to mess with us."

Lovino snorted, whilst Matthew nodded. "Well, Francis' crime was cheating on you. How would you punish someone like that?" he asked lightly, nuzzling his bear's ears with his nose. The Gilbert-scent still lingered there, and Matthew felt guilty for sniffing at it like it was glue or something.

"Chop his balls off and force-feed them to him? Cut his dick off and glue it to his head?" Arthur suggested, smiling to himself. "Hmmm...empty his shampoo and conditioner bottles and replace the liquid with hair removal cream? Slip him some Viagra?" he continued, sucking on the pen thoughtfully.

Lovino grinned. "Why not?" he asked. Arthur glanced to him, confusion across his face.

"Why not...what?" he asked. Lovino's grinned just stretched, revealing pearly white teeth.

"Slip them some Viagra?" the Italian clarified. Arthur just blinked at him. Then matched his grin with one of his own.

"That...that could work. I could even get some by tomorrow. In jelly form, so it'll be easier just to slip it in their drinks, 'cause it dissolves and bloody hell! This could work. We could actually slip them some Viagra jelly!" Arthur declared, highly excitable and eager.

"Slip them some...what?" Matthew squeaked, his eyebrows disappearing beneath his fringe. Lovino continued to laugh, his face flushing slightly and tears began to well up in his eyes.

"Viagra jelly," Arthur stated simply. It was so obvious and so easy. How had he not thought of this before?

"W-Why?" Matthew asked, horrified at the very thought of using the substance. Yeah, it wasn't drugs, but where would they get some? How would they slip it to them? Why the fuck was he even considering this?

"Because we want to deliver a punishment that's suited to the crime. F-Francis cheated on me. He couldn't keep it in his pants. In fact, all three have a hard time keeping it in their pants. They think it's fun, they find it amusing. Now we're going to show them just how _wrong_ they are," Arthur stated, his tone bitter and dark. Matthew swallowed hard, stroking Gilbird's feathers as the bird became quite distressed at knowing what they were going to do to his stupid master.

_Oh_! They were going to _torture_ him!

"It's fucking perfect!" Lovino cried his voice hoarse from excessive laughter. Arthur gave him a gleaming smile, his eyes glinting dangerously.

"I know."

* * *

><p><strong>So. Anyone guess the use of Viagra? Or any of the other stuff they mentioned? Besides the whole jealousy one, of course.<br>**

**Anyways, thank you to: **_Silverfern500, xGlass, Jankz, afairyprincessinapunkrockband, Miggery, cheezeruleszolp, Meaningless Name, Readers-Section, demonlifehealer, Shinigami-cat, xXIceXxShatteredXx, Sasha, CookieTower, Lemon-Parfait, randommanatee, misher _**annnd**_ Angel of the Midnight Sea_**! **

**And especially to **_Readers-Section_** for inspiring me to use the name 'Revenge Trio'. ^_^  
><strong>

**^_^ I adore reviews. They make my world go weeeeeeee~! ^_^**

**So perty please review and make my world go weeeeeeeeee~!**

**Love City Girl**

**x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x**


	8. How To Get Back Up

**Seriously now, I have had exam after exam after exam these past few days. I am actually ready to stab someone with a pen~! ^_^**

**Anywhoo~, I began to write this at the same time as when I began to watch HetaOni. I then got sucked into the videos and forgot all about writing this and revising for my exams.**

**Boom. I am so organised~!**

**Anyway, this chapter killed me. It's the second longest chapter I have EVER written. The longest being 9,821 words. I'mma go and stab myself now~! ^_^**

**So, yeah. Time for their revenge to officially kick-start!**

**ENJOY!**

* * *

><p><span>Chapter 8 - How To Get Back Up<span>

"So, here's your sachet and yours as well. Just pour into their drinks and mix well."

"Thank you, Arthur."

"You're welcome Matthew."

"Arthur, where the _fuck_ did you get Viagra jelly from anyway?"

"..."

"Arthur?"

"..."

"Arthur!"

"...ummm, long story?"

...

...

...

...

...

...

...

It first started last night, wherein Arthur spent a grand total of fifteen minutes outside the front door to the house he used to live in along with his siblings. His dad was always off on one of his 'super secret' jobs and his mother was dead. The oldest out of his siblings, was Andrew. He had auburn hair and piercing green eyes, with a lean muscled body that packed a lot of power. He was the one who used to initiate the bullying towards Arthur when he was young. Arthur didn't hate his brother, but felt a sad longing towards the man who would never love him in return.

Then there was Cade, who was nicer to him and used to bandage him back up after any particularly bad fights. That wasn't to say he was a good brother, because he never seemed to actually try and stand up for Arthur. Instead, he would hang back and wait for his brothers to finish and then he would go in and help. He had blond hair and blue eyes with a similar build to Arthur himself. Then there were the twins, Seamus and Aislinn. They both had shocking red hair and whilst Seamus had green eyes, Aislinn had the same blue as Cade's. They were incredibly close and used to gang up on Arthur along with Andrew. However, one incident that had occurred between Arthur and his older sister, led to the girl storming out and never returning. It was the same day that Seamus swore to never talk to Arthur again.

Arthur hated to say it, but Seamus had managed to uphold his vow.

The youngest Brit always fantasised about what being the youngest in the family meant. He always thought that the youngest would always be the favourite in the way that they were always looked after and protected. However, instead of receiving that protection, Arthur had been victimised by his siblings until the day he left. Not even Alfred's attempts of standing up for him managed to make them back off.

Sighing, the Brit wondered if it was too late to call the American up and ask him to come down. Then, upon the realisation that asking Alfred to be his bodyguard would be incredibly humiliating, Arthur resigned himself to just wait. He waited outside his own childhood home and waited for his brothers to open the door. Arthur did have a key to the house, but it hadn't worked. It was then that Arthur knew that his brothers' had changed the locks and he was stuck outside until someone answered him.

As the Brit began to lose his patience with his dysfunctional family, he rose a fist and proceeded to pound on the door. Unfortunately for him, the door had opened whilst he had knocked for the third time, therein leading him to punching his 'nice' brother, Cade, instead. Wincing in pain, Cade glanced down to view a slightly amused brother of his, smirking back up at him.

"What the fuck..._Arthur_?" his brother asked, disbelief written across his features. He couldn't believe that Arthur had come back. Arthur, his Arthur, the same Arthur who he had last seen piling his suitcases into Alfred's car whilst telling them all to burn in hell. Cade swallowed hard and looked his brother up and down. The young blond had managed to fill out his skinny frame and he looked healthier than he ever did whilst living with them.

Before Arthur could retort, his oldest brother pushed Cade aside to view the self-proclaimed 'estranged' member of their family.

"Oh? I didn't know you still lived here," Andrew stated, quirking a brow. Arthur just rolled his eyes and scoffed, leaning against the door slightly.

"Please, as if I actually would want to stay living here. I moved out remember? Or have you murdered your brain with so much alcohol that it's now affecting your memory? I wouldn't be surprised if it ha—" Arthur started, feeling his hackles rising at Andrew's presence. He felt confident in knowing that he no longer lived with them, that Andrew could no longer hurt him.

"Arthur. Please, don't do this. Is there something you needed?" Cade asked, ignoring the glare he received in return.

"Yes, I wanted to enter the house that I used to live in. Would it be so hard to acquiesce my request?" Arthur replied. Cade only sighed and nodded. Arthur was so lovely when he wanted to be, but never to his brothers. The older blond bit his lip; he really couldn't blame Arthur for his behaviour.

"It depends, what the fuck do you want?" Andrew snapped, glaring down at him. Arthur just twisted his features into an expression of disgust and folded his arms haughtily.

"None of your fucking business, now will you let me in or not? I know I don't exactly live here anymore, but it's still _my_ home," Arthur hissed back. Not wanting to start World War III, Cade stepped aside to let the baby brother through, then he subtly elbowed Andrew in the stomach to halt any passing comments being made. Seamus completely blanked Arthur's existence as per usual and left the house, his brothers following after him.

"Don't burn the fucking house down and stay the fuck out of our kitchen," the eldest hissed to him, before he left.

Wincing as Andrew slammed the door shut, Arthur sighed and quivered. Then grinned when he realised that he was all alone and could waltz in and out of their rooms as he pleased. Not that he would want to voluntarily. He couldn't bear the thought of what they must have done to his room whilst he was away and he definitely didn't want to enter Seamus' room. Aislinn's room was definitely off-limits as her brother had placed a heavy-padlock on the door handle and refused to give anyone the key. Arthur also had enough respect for Cade to leave his room well enough alone.

Trekking his way up the stairs, Arthur immediately headed towards Andrew's bedroom. He had only been here once in the entirety of his life and it wasn't an experience worth having again. Wincing as the memories of pain and burns and blood entered his mind, Arthur crept across the landing and gently nudged the door. Luckily for him, Andrew didn't keep a lock on his door, leaving Arthur free to venture in and have a rummage around.

Andrew's room was bare, with dark blue walls and an even darker blue carpet. There were some shelves with books on them and little trinkets dotted about, but Arthur didn't bother sneaking around through all of Andrew's things. Creeping across the floor, Arthur headed straight to the bedside table. There were a packet of cigarettes lying there, along with a lighter that Aislinn had bought him for his fourteenth birthday. In the middle of the table though, sat a picture that made Arthur's heart clench tightly. In the picture was a beautiful woman with the same auburn hair as Andrew, but had Cade's baby-blue eyes. In her arms was a four-year-old Andrew, laughing with joy.

Licking his lips nervously, Arthur turned the photo around and opened the drawer up quickly. It was filled with takeaway leaflets, CDs and some empty bottles of cologne. Shifting them out of the way, Arthur spotted some condoms, a bottle-opener, some handcuffs which Arthur stuck his tongue out at in disgust and, stuffed right in the back of the drawer, a packet of Viagra jelly. It had never been opened and Arthur suspected that Andrew hadn't bought but it was most likely a gag-gift from a friend. The Brit smirked; if Andrew _had_ friends that is.

Careful to not touch anything else in the drawer, Arthur plucked the packet up and read the instructions. _Blah, blah, blah...mix in drink...no fizzy stuff...blah, blah...works within ten minutes. Perfect! _Arthur smirked, his plan was running along rather smoothly and _damn_, did it feel good to have a plan work out well. He couldn't wait to show off in front of Lovino; he couldn't wait to rub it all in that smug little Italian's face.

However, his grin fell right off his face when he heard his brother's voice. His oldest brother's voice. One that sounded like it was coming right behind him.

_Bollocks_, Arthur thought and gritted his teeth for the inevitable grilling.

"And what the _fuck_ do you think you're doing here?" Andrew drawled, his tone hard and cold. "Imagine, coming back to fetch my fags, only to find a punk-assed, little bitch sneaking about my room. The same little bitch who swore that he would never step foot inside this house again. So, I'll ask once more: what the fuck do you think you're doing here?"

Heart beating rapidly against his chest, Arthur turned around slowly and swallowed hard, keeping his hands behind his back. Andrew was gazing at him with dark mirth in his eyes and quirked a brow. "What's behind your back," he asked, keeping his voice polite and cold.

"N-Nothing," Arthur hissed back, his grip tightening on the packet in his hands. Faster than he could blink, Andrew had stalked across the room and yanked Arthur's arms from behind him. The younger Brit struggled and winced as Andrew, with his grip as tight as a vice, lifted his arm up and saw the packet clenched in Arthur's hand.

"Now this is interesting," Andrew smirked. "I got that off a mate for a joke. Never needed it before in my life. But you? Are you that inept in everything you do? Are you so stupid that you can't even figure out how to get it up?" Andrew's voice was delicate and soft, contrasting that hard-hitting words that made Arthur wince in pain.

Arthur growled slightly, clutching the packet tighter. How fucking humiliating. "Piss off! This isn't for me! This is for—"

"For a friend? Don't lie to me, I've heard it all. So, who's the unlucky fucker? It's not that American brat, is it? I thought he had higher standards than a pathetic little bitch like you!" Andrew continued to laugh, tears welling up in the corners of his eyes as he held his stomach. Arthur just gritted his teeth in embarrassment and strode past his older brother, angry tears spiking at his eyes as Andrew's words sent stabs of pain through his heart.

"It's for my ex-boyfriend. He cheated on me. I'm getting revenge. I hope you choke on your laughter, you bastard," Arthur hissed icily, storming down the stairs and marching out of the house, ignoring the looks he gained from his other brothers.

Fuck them all.

X-x-X-x-X

Arthur coughed nervously, avoiding any eye-contact with Lovino or Matthew.

"Right. Long fucking story? Whatever. I probably don't want to hear it...actually, I know I don't want to hear it. Fuck that and let's concentrate on the damn plan," Lovino stated, stretching up to place his hands behind his head. Arthur glanced at him gratefully; it would have been humiliating for him to reveal what his life was like with his brothers.

"Y-Yeah...so, um...do you think Yong Soo will actually help me...slip this to Gilbert?" Matthew asked, blinking at the sachet in his hand. Arthur smirked and glanced over to him.

"Yong Soo will do it, no problem. That wanker will probably do it with a grin on his face, whilst proclaiming that Korea invented it or some shit like that," the Brit replied, giving Matthew a soft smile. Lovino just scoffed.

"Hey, maple-bastard. You might want to hide that shit, unless you want the local dickheads to gain more ammo to beat you up," the Italian sniped. The Canadian just blushed and shoved the sachet in his pocket.

"G-Good idea..." he muttered. Arthur frowned.

"They don't really beat you up, do they?" he asked, slightly concerned. If Alfred caught wind of this, then all hell would break loose and the American would most definitely end up in jail.

"N-Not anymore. They would usually mix me up with my brother and would get angry when I tried to prove them wrong. They don't do it anymore after that one time where they caught me in a bad mood after my team lost a hockey match and well...I sorta snapped," Matthew explained, his face flushing slightly. Lovino snorted and grinned at the Canadian.

"So you do have balls? Nice. You should show them off more often. All the fuckers around here would think twice before mixing you and your brother up," he stated.

"O-Oh, no...I couldn't do that," Matthew insisted, hugging himself tightly. If he did that, then he would definitely be turning into Alfred.

"Ah, I get it. This soft and sweet side to you...it's just lulling them into a false sense of security before you knock them out with your hockey stick!" the Italian said, smirking at Matthew's horrified expression. Arthur just snorted.

"If only Alfred was as smart as you. He wouldn't spend half his life in detention," Arthur muttered, shoving his hands into his pockets. Matthew just stood, frozen and flustered. He had never been complimented much before and he had never felt the experience of being preferred company when compared to Alfred. He reached up to seek comfort from Gilbird, but remembered that he had to leave the bird at home. Matthew figured that it would just be dangerous in case Gilbert noticed that Gilbird was nesting in his hair.

"Anyway, let's get this damn show on the road, already! I'll see you two bastards after school, alright?" Lovino stated, gaining two confirming nods in return. Smirking at them, he turned and walked away, giving Arthur a mock-salute as he did so. In turn, Arthur flipped him off.

"Yeah...so see you after school," the Brit stated, turning his attention to the Canadian beside him. Matthew nodded and walked off to the Sport's Hall, hockey-gear in tow.

Arthur waved him off and turned to walk through the hallways of the Academy. The Academy itself was a grand building, having been erected in 1856 and was originally an all boy's school until after the second World War. The Academy was two-stories high with the majority of the classrooms on the ground floor, along with all the important rooms, such as the headmaster's office. Places like the library, nurse's office and the canteen were on the second floor. Arthur's locker was situated on the ground floor, very close to the entrance. He walked up to it but paused slightly as a strange tingling feeling crept up his spine and made him shiver.

This strange feeling inflated when a loud voice in his mind started to scream: _incoming: one fucking tornado of terror! Watch the fuck out! Watch. The fuck. Out!_

Arthur just sighed and rubbed his temples. He knew what was coming and he certainly didn't need any voices to inform him of that.

"Think fast!" cried a loud, annoying and American voice. Arthur just sighed and stepped to the side expertly. After years of being tackled by Alfred, Arthur managed to develop the sense that just maybe, stepping to the side would help in avoiding his pride and dignity being damaged. After months of having face-planted the floor, Alfred managed to develop the sense that just maybe, he needed to stop trying to tackle Arthur.

However, Alfred couldn't resist greeting his best friend in the traditional sense, despite the inevitable pain of bruising his head whilst doing so. Arthur looked down in disapproval and pondered if maybe this was the reason as to why Alfred would always be a little bit 'special'.

"Idiot," he muttered, leaning against his locker with a sigh.

Alfred just jumped up with a grin. "I'm still hot though!" he declared, and threw an arm around Arthur's shoulders. "So, a little birdie told me that you finally cooked up a plan. And I mean a real birdie, not my brother. Matthew sent Gilbird with a message this morning. Don't know why he couldn't send a text! Dude, the bird tried to _eat_ my fingers! So not cool!" he exclaimed, holding up his fingers to show off the scars he had received last night.

Arthur smirked and shook his head in amusement.

"Well maybe you shouldn't have beaten up Gilbird's owner. Hmmm?" Arthur replied, trying to shift the arm off of him. Alfred just snorted.

"Yeah, what-the fuck-ever! So, what's your great plan that you hinted at a couple of nights ago?" he asked, nudging Arthur's cheek lightly. Arthur slapped the hand away, scowling and rubbing his cheek.

"We're slipping them Viagra," he responded, glaring as Alfred managed to keep his arm around Arthur's shoulder.

"Dude, you're using Viagra? That's totally overdone!" Alfred exclaimed, his eyebrows raised. Arthur just tutted at him and yanked the arm off his body, ignoring Alfred's cry of pain.

"Yes, but it's been overdone _improperly_. We're conducting this revenge using our intelligence, meaning that it will work out better than any other idea that used Viagra!" Arthur explained, his eyes sparkling in excitement. Alfred just chuckled as he rolled his aching arm.

"Seriously? How'd you figure that one out?" he asked in disbelief. Arthur toyed with the idea of just leaving him hanging, but then he'd be left with a stubborn American for the rest of the day and really, that would just be inconvenient. And annoying. Plus, it just wouldn't do if he killed Alfred now out of frustration; the guy may very well be useful in the future.

"Well, we're going to slip it to them at different times. Lovino's going to mix his sachet in Antonio's sports bottle, before he begins his football training. Matthew is going to give his sachet to Im Yong Soo, so he can slip it in Gilbert's drink during lunch. The annoying wanker decided it would be a good idea to propose a fight to Ivan, in order to rescue his masculinity, or some other crap like that. And Francis has this fashion show after school, so I'm going to mix my sachet in his drink beforehand," Arthur explained, watching Alfred's reactions carefully. The American was torn between laughing out loud and admitting that he really didn't get it.

"You're fucked up. Just sayin'. Your idea is pretty cool though," he replied, wrinkling his nose. "But Antonio plays soccer. Not football. And, why would that freaky freak choose to beat up Ivan? I'm the one that busted his nose! And I so totally knew that Francis was too fruity for you!" he declared, as if Francis could actually get any fruitier than he already was!

Arthur just smacked him. "It's football, you retard! And maybe Gilbert chose to beat up Ivan because he's not stupid enough to try and beat up the guy that beat him up first! And Francis is not fruity!" he huffed, crossing his arms and glaring at Alfred.

"Woah. Dude. Touchy~! Didn't know you still cared about him enough to defend him!" Alfred chortled, ducking just in time to get away from Arthur's punches. The Brit huffed as Alfred expertly dodged his punches, and proceeded to march away from the annoyance.

"Immature...bratty...doesn't know anything...don't know why...fucking...wanker...hate...American...blah, blah, blah," Arthur muttered under his breath, causing Alfred to pout as he ran to catch up to him.

"So not nice. But seriously dude, you really shouldn't care about him anymore. The dude did the dirty~! And why are you being so mean to me? I didn't do anything!" Alfred scowled, poking Arthur's cheek sulkily. Arthur just sighed and swatted the hand away.

"Yes, he cheated on me. But that doesn't necessarily mean that all of my feelings for him have disappeared like _that_!" Arthur hissed, snapping his fingers as he spat the last word out. Alfred just smirked and nodded.

"Oooh...you still loooove him~! Don'cha?" he teased, tugging Arthur's hair with a grin. Arthur knew that he had astounding patience; unfortunately for Alfred, his patience had just reached its limit.

"Fuck. Off. You. Knob. Head!" Arthur spat, moving to punching Alfred in the arm. The American just laughed at him and dodged the punch smoothly.

"Whatever dude~! Just as long as you love me more!" he declared, winking cheekily at Arthur before running off to escape the Brit's anger. Arthur scowled at him, tempted to run after the American and beat him to death with his school bag. However, Arthur knew that his pride and dignity had suffered enough without him adding more to the pain.

That and he could get back at Alfred anytime, anyplace. As Arthur continued his way towards his Literature class, his phone buzzed in his pocket. Pulling it out and flipping it open, he grimaced as he saw it was from Alfred.

_You didn't kill me! You sooooo totally loooooove me! XD! Too bad, I already have a cute Japanese boy! You're forever alone DUDE! XD! xxxxxxxxxxx_

Arthur hissed at the text. Fucking Yankee dickhead.

X-x-X-x-X

Lovino knew that Arthur's plan was going to be a success.

The Italian had managed to coerce his brother into distracting his tomato-bastard-ex, whilst he smoothly snatched away Antonio's drink from his bag, unscrewed the lid and poured the jelly into it. He screwed the lid back on tightly and shook the drink, to properly mix the jelly into it. Luckily, Feliciano had managed to distract that Spaniard for fifteen minutes straight, before Antonio insisted that he needed to leave.

He didn't know what they were talking about, but from the looks on Feliciano's face, it probably wasn't something good. Lovino scowled; whatever, he really didn't care enough to know. Quickly, he managed to slip Antonio's drink into his bag, just as the Spaniard was leaving.

As Antonio walked off to football practice, Feliciano pouted and shuffled up to his older brother. "Why can't you just talk to him? He really misses you~!" he said sadly, biting his lip as he regarded Antonio's retreating form. Lovino just scoffed and crossed his arms.

"Everything that needed to be said _was_ said that night!" he snapped back, causing Feliciano to furrow his brows in confusion.

"B-But I don't know what was said that night, so how can I know that everything really was said?" he replied. Lovino just shook his head and rounded on his brother.

"Why do you need to know what was said? It's none of your fucking business!" he snapped, crossing his arms. Feliciano flinched at Lovino's sharp tone and shrunk slightly. Lovino's eye twitched slightly, feeling a pang of guilt for lashing out at his brother.

"You're my brother...I want to help you..." Feliciano mumbled, looking away miserably.

Lovino sighed, hating how he always managed to upset his brother, even when he wasn't trying. "I'm...sorry. I know you want to help and you are helping me. That bastard is getting his just desserts and that's making me happy. Don't you want to see me happy?"

Feliciano perked up a bit and smiled slightly. "Of course~! It's just...won't it make everything worse? I've seen this kind of thing in Ludwig's dirty yet clean books and—" he started, but Lovino erupted before he could finish.

"That dirty potato-eater! What the fuck does he think he's doing letting you read those? I'm going to fucking slaughter him!" he spat, his honey-coloured eyes darkening as he stormed away from his brother, in search of a the closet pervert. Feliciano jumped and gasped.

"W-Wait! Brotheeer~! Don't kill Ludwig! I neeeeeed hiiiiim~!" he cried, running after his angry brother in haste.

Meanwhile, at football practice, the effects of the jelly had yet to kick in. Antonio had changed into his uniform, taking a long sip from his drink before heading out to the field. Antonio was a star striker and ever since Spain won the World Cup last year, he suddenly found himself being thrown into every single football game the Academy participated in. He wouldn't have minded as much, as he loved playing football...it was just hard for him to understand why his coach kept yelling at him.

Antonio hated it when he felt that he was controlling the ball too much, so he kept passing the ball to other players. At very inconvenient moments. The Spaniard bit his lip as he remembered passing the ball to a teammate and then getting his head bitten off for doing so. Apparently, he wasn't supposed to pass the ball to other players when it was penalties.

Today's football practice had gone okay, with Antonio running up and down the pitch and scoring goals whenever he could. Sometimes, Antonio was so fiercely concentrated in his game that he would often not notice he had scored until he was being swarmed with manly hugs and kisses. Whenever this occurred during an actual match, Lovino would storm off in a jealous rage and Antonio, when he noticed that Lovino was walking away, would often go after him. Mid-game. Which led to his coach biting his head off some more.

However, since the news that Antonio and Lovino had split up had gotten out, Antonio found that his coach had begun training him hard and mercilessly. His coach had given him one last chance to buck up his ideas and to just concentrate on the game. So Antonio worked his ass off during training. He went through all the exercises. He kicked all the balls into the net. He pushed his body to the limits whilst stretching. He did have his moments when he paused to appreciate what a lovely day it was, but his coach would swiftly bring him back to reality by throwing a water bottle at his head.

Then Antonio would resume his sprinting, taking all of his coach's abuse in stride. The Spaniard carried on with his laps around the field, not noticing the tingling feeling that began to build up down below. He had felt a slight discomfort between his legs, but carried on sprinting in fear of another bottle getting thrown at him.

Antonio didn't notice his teammates pausing to stare in disbelief or disgust as he ran past them. He didn't notice that they had stopped altogether and had begun to whisper about him. He didn't even notice the ominous aura radiating from his coach, until the man started to speak.

"Woah, woah, woah! What the hell is wrong with you Carriedo?" his coach screamed out at him. Antonio frowned and paused in his sprinting.

"It's Fernández-Carriedo! I have two names!" he yelled back, completely missing the point. His coach just threw his hat on the ground and stormed up to him.

"Yeah, well I have two fucking balls, but I don't go around parading them about like you!" his coach hissed back, now just mere inches from him. Antonio just scrunched up his eyebrows in confusion and glanced down.

"They're not..._oh_," he started defensively, only to whisper out the last word in mortification.

Antonio panicked, completely frozen to the spot as he gazed down in horror. Why, why, why now of all times, why? This was so not happening! His coach was going to kill him; his teammates would never cease their ridicule of him! Oh...what would Lovino think of him?

Except...Lovino wouldn't think much of him. 'Cause Lovino probably no longer thought about him at all.

"Yeah, 'oh'! What the hell was going through your mind? We have a damn important match coming up, _princess_, and that means you better get your freaking priorities sorted out! I didn't let you onto the team 'cause of your dick! So put it away!" his coach spat, his face growing hotter and redder. Antonio would have commented that his face looked somewhat like a tomato...except his coach wasn't Lovino. So there was a higher chance of him being murdered for saying as such. Especially when he took the situation at hand into consideration.

"I-I don't know what's wrong with me!" Antonio insisted, squirming on the spot and pulling down his shirt to try and hide his problem. His face burned in humiliation as his teammates began to laugh at him. The Spaniard flinched at the laughter; his teammates really weren't very nice...

"I'll tell you what's damn wrong with you! You're too much of a damn airhead to be on my team!" his coach snapped at him. Antonio gasped, and gazed up in horror.

"N-No! Please don't do what I know you're going to do! You really don't have to do that! My head hasn't got that much air in it! It has other stuff in it too!" he protested, urging his coach to see reason. Unfortunately, the only thing his coach saw was red.

"Don't beg to me! Look at yourself! You're pathetic! Get sorted out before I sort you out myself," the coach growled, hitting Antonio upside the head. The Spaniard flinched and nodded furiously.

"I-I will! I promise! J-Just don't kick me off the team! Please!" he continued to plead, his eyes growing watery from his frustration. However, his coach merely sneered at him and turned away, a snarl on his lips.

"Get out of my sight!" his coach hissed. Antonio sniffed and nodded, shuffling off the pitch awkwardly due to the bulge preventing him from all-out running away. "Oh! And one more thing Carriedo! You're on the bench!" his coach yelled out to him, causing Antonio's heart to sink pitifully to the bottom of his stomach.

He didn't even bother to correct his coach on his name. Instead, he carried on walking, stumbling slightly and ducking his head as his so-called 'teammates' jeered and teased him.

"Watch you don't poke your eye out with that thing!"

"You better not had been fantasizing about me, gay boy!"

"Jesus Christ! I ain't getting in changing room with him!"

More and more catcalls and insults were thrown his way, before Antonio decided to cut his losses and awkwardly ran off the pitch and away from the taunts and jeers.

Hiding behind one of the trees that surrounded the field was Lovino. The Italian had to bite his lip in order to still his tongue. Fucking hell, he had a few things he could say to those bastards. Who the hell did they think they were, bullying his tomato-bastard like that?

Ah, except...Antonio wasn't his anymore, was he? He was a bastard alright, just not _his_ bastard. Lovino had broken up with him. Not the other way around. The Italian should be feeling nothing, absolutely nothing for the bastard.

So why the hell did he feel so sick when he saw the Spaniard's broken look? Lovino chewed his lip, glaring at the rest of the football team, as they continued to taunt Antonio behind his back. Dickheads. They could go fuck themselves and then some. God...Lovino was so tempted to walk right up to them and rip their dicks off. But he was pissed off with Antonio. He had broken up with Antonio. So he couldn't defend the bastard.

Instead, he just sighed and walked away.

X-x-X-x-X

As soon as lunchtime came around, Gilbert went to 'The Café Around The Corner' and ordered himself a white chocolate milkshake.

His friends were busy doing their own thing and didn't even know what Gilbert had done. The albino thought it somewhat amusing that everyone knew about, but his best friends. For some reason, this made him feel slightly better. Slinging himself down into a nearby booth, he waited for Yong Soo to get him his milkshake. The Korean managed to sneak past Kiku in order to make Gilbert his drink. He fixed up the milkshake and then squeezed the jelly out of the sachet into the crushed ice. Then he poured the mixture into the drink and stirred it in well. The waiter then proceeded to waltz straight past the nervous Canadian, heading straight to the albino's table.

Gilbert had been readying himself for the fight that would win back his masculine pride. His nose still hurt and his reputation hurt even more as he recalled his lame fight with Alfred F. Jones. The American had gone all out on the guy who broke his brother's heart. Yet, today Gilbert was going to fix everything. The albino smirked as his milkshake came, sitting up amongst his many 'admirers' as he drank in large gulps of it.

Matthew, meanwhile, sat at the bar watching him whilst biting his lip. It had taken a hell of a lot of persuasion for Matthew to get over his guilt and just hand over the sachet to Yong Soo. The Canadian felt conflicted over whether it was worth seeing Gilbert's reaction or not. Then he remembered how humiliated he was when Gilbert forgot about him and practically threw the sachet at the waiter.

"Hey...this is pretty sneaky! So, um, don't know who you are, but you're Arthur's friend, right? Cool! Then I hope you know that Viagra was totally invented in Korea!" Im Yong Soo declared, making the Canadian jump in surprise. Matthew clutched his heart and threw a glare at the waiter behind him.

"Of course it was," he muttered, continuing to eye-stalk the albino from across the room. He proceeded to tune Yong Soo's voice out, focusing on eye-stalking his ex-boyfriend. Arthur told him that the effects would begin in five to ten minutes. Matthew had timed it so that it would kick in around the time that Gilbert would start his fight with Ivan.

Unfortunately, the Russian was late and Gilbert had been waiting for seven minutes already. Matthew really hoped that Ivan actually showed up soon, otherwise all of his planning would just go to waste. Sure Gilbert would get embarrassed, but when surrounded by so many beautiful people, the Canadian knew that his ex-boyfriend would play it off smoothly. Yong Soo noticed that his audience was ignoring him and tutted.

"You know, this mopey attitude you're displaying never originated in Korea. So I suggest you lighten up a bit, Mr. Person-I-don't-know!" he stated with a grin. Matthew just blinked at him, and then resumed to just stare at the albino with a miserable expression.

"How can I? I know he's not missing me. Just look at all the people surrounding him. I know he doesn't even go looking for me, 'cause I haven't seen him once over the past couple of days. How can I lighten up, when the person I dumped, doesn't even feel guilty about hurting me?" Matthew asked, slumping further down in his chair.

Yong Soo just sighed in a way that he had seen Yao do many times, and placed his hands on his hips. "'Cause you're going to make it hurt. You're totally getting revenge and you're making him pay. You should be having fun with this~!" he exclaimed, throwing his hands in the air with a grin.

Matthew just smiled. "Y-Yeah...I guess you're righ—" he started but paused when someone loudly spoke to Gilbert.

"Gilbert! Guess who just turned up!" said one of Gilbert's admirers, tugging on his sleeve and fluttering her lashes.

The Canadian scowled as he watched Gilbert smile at her with a wink, pulling her close as he swaggered out of the café. Those who heard about Gilbert's suicidal proposal to the Russian proceeded to rush outside to watch. They knew that in a town like theirs, it wasn't every day that they had the chance to witness a fellow classmate being murdered by Ivan Braginsky.

Matthew, however, chose to stay inside and just shuffled up to the window, managing to get a clear view of what was going on. Im Yong Soo, being surprisingly helpful, opened up a window, so they could hear what was being said.

"Spying was totally invented in Korea," Yong Soo whispered excitedly.

Matthew rolled his eyes and sighed. "Shut up!"

Yong Soo complied and pouted, leaving Matthew to concentrate on the situation outside.

"So, you took your sweet ass time getting here," Gilbert drawled, stretching out and cracking his fingers. Matthew flinched at the sound and squirmed slightly. Ivan just smiled.

"Hello, I am sorry it took so long getting here. You see, I had another 'appointment' downtown and unfortunately it overlapped with this one," Ivan said, calmly and serenely. Gilbert just chuckled nervously. Appointment, huh?

"Dude, no one stands me up," Gilbert stated, grinning at the Russian before him. "At least, no one gets away with it, that is," he added.

Ivan opened his mouth to reply, only to close it again as he peered down at Gilbert's groin. Mathew gasped as he saw that the jelly had started to kick in. The albino wriggled in discomfort, partly due to having a tall Russian loom over him and partly due to the strange feeling downstairs. Gilbert swallowed hard and glanced down, mortification spreading throughout his body.

"I had no idea you were this excited at the prospect of being beaten up and publicly humiliated by me," Ivan said, smiling down at the quivering albino.

_Oh fuck_, Gilbert thought. He wondered what the odds were of him getting out of this with his dick intact; going over the odds in his mind, Gilbert decided that he really didn't like those odds at all. However, he smirked and played it off coolly.

"Oh trust me, like hell do you turn me on! This is just a consequence of knowing how many times I'll get laid when I kick your ass!" Gilbert retorted, proudly showing off his bulge for the crowd to see.

Matthew just blinked, wondering how the hell he ever actually accepted Gilbert's request at being his boyfriend.

"Kolkolkolkolkol," Ivan laughed darkly. "You still want to fight? Wouldn't you rather take care of that first? It would put you at a disadvantage, not that I am complaining," he said, tilting his head to the side with a childlike grin. Gilbert just laughed.

"What's that? You intimidated by my sexy five metres?" Gilbert crowed, hands on his hips whilst he eyed the Russian with a smirk. The crowd tittered slightly, whilst Ivan just smiled.

"Not really. But I do seem to recall five metres being a little bigger than this," the Russian replied, the same eery smile on his face as he approached the albino and grasped his bulge tightly. Gilbert howled in pain as Ivan gripped harder, the surrounding crowd murmuring amongst themselves.

Matthew winced, his eyes widening in horror and pain for the albino. However he knew that Arthur and Lovino would most likely smack him for feeling any pity for the boy and mentally repressed his feelings. He did feel the pain when Ivan tightened his grip on Gilbert's dick.

"So. Not. Awe. Some," Gilbert gritted out, squirming slightly to escape the vice-like hold on his precious jewels. Pfft. Jewels.

"You know, I've always wondered why they call this a 'boner'. There isn't a bone in it at all!" Ivan pondered out loud, tilting his head slightly as he regarded the whimpering albino before him. "However, I do wonder...if they call it a 'boner' because it breaks like a bone?" he asked himself, causing the crowd to step back a few feet.

Matthew, on the other hand, flipped out his phone, ready to ask for an ambulance at any time. Im Yong Soo just tutted and snatched the phone off him.

Meanwhile, Gilbert's life flashed before his eyes. "W-What? N-No! You really don't have to do such an unawesome thing! L-Let go of me! Fucking fag-assed bastard!" he hissed, his crimson eyes were flashing with rage and slight fear. Ivan just hummed in amusement.

"Oh? Then what does that make you, I wonder? I heard what you did to comrade Matthew. It wasn't very nice," Ivan mused. Gilbert choked slightly and gazed in horror at the smiling Russian looming over him. Matthew's eyes just widened in horror. Since when did _Ivan_ care about him?

_Since he used to date your brother and then became obsessed with him..._a little voice helpfully said in the back of his mind. Except Matthew paid no attention to that voice, 'cause Gilbert's voice was louder and it was his voice that he concentrated on.

"F-Fuck!" he spat. And then proceeded to howl out in agony as Ivan slowly began to pull his vital regions back. And then watched his life flash before his eyes again.

Fuck. He never did manage to get the recipe to Matthew's pancakes...

X-x-X-x-X

Francis was waiting nervously at the side of the catwalk to his fashion show, his boss looming backstage with her beady eyes focused on him.

The French boy was a wonderful designer and he hoped that he would break into the fashion industry and take it by storm one day. His designs were always unique, always sexy and always refreshing to have on the catwalk. Unfortunately, he did have a little issue with being surrounded by so many beautiful people. Fashion designers were always urged to keep business and pleasure separate when it came to their models.

Unfortunately for Francis, in his vocabulary, business and pleasure had the same definition. Whilst he never slept with the models, he almost always flirted with them and charmed them. Something that had gotten him into trouble with his boss time after time. He also knew that Arthur wouldn't be very happy with his behaviour either.

Said Brit was looming around the exit doors, keeping himself in the dark and concentrating on the stage before him. He had never been to one of Francis' shows before, knowing that it would just be subjecting himself to the torture of seeing Francis flirt with all the models. He always wanted to go to one though because he knew just how much time and effort that Francis put in to his beautiful designs.

Now Arthur really was here and for a different reason altogether. Arthur tried to convince himself that he really didn't mind if the frog flirted with any of the models because he was here to punish him. He had managed to mix the jelly into Francis' bottle of water backstage, before the frog took his position next to the catwalk. Arthur was here to make sure Francis got what was coming to him. He was not here to get hurt anymore, or to feel any form of jealousy. Just to punish him. So, when the music began and Francis started to speak, Arthur shifted into a more comfortable position and proceeded to watch as his plan folded out.

Meanwhile, Francis began to get into his show. He charmed the models and described each outfit in detail. Then he proceeded to inform the audience about the model's body and how it suited the outfit they were given, despite sometimes giving too much information out. However, he had the audience eating out of his palm and he loved the feeling it gave him. Francis adored having attention for his designs and he loved being able to turn any woman into a beautiful goddess.

As the show really took off, Francis felt an all too familiar feeling downstairs. He swallowed hard and carried on with his show, ignoring the feeling and hoping to whoever would listen to him that the feeling would just fuck off. He really didn't want to get kicked off of this apprenticeship, because that would lead to his boss killing him and then resurrecting him, only to get the pleasure of killing him again.

Francis tried to think of ugly images, things that turned him off, cold water, anything. Nothing worked though, nothing would make it leave. People started to notice. His models began to notice. That meant his boss was going to most definitely notice. Francis glanced behind him quickly, whipping his head back around when he saw his boss snarling at him. Oh fuck. It was official: Francis' boss was going to kill him.

The music came to a stand-still and his models started to giggle to themselves. His audience was hushed, muttering amongst themselves. Francis bit his lip and tried to calm his breathing down. A beautiful red-haired model looked at him apologetically before discreetly pointing down. However, Francis knew what was there without her assistance.

Francis swallowed as he glanced down anyway. Sure enough, there it was, in all of its bulgy-pride. He licked his lips nervously before regaining his cool and winked at the crowd. "Obviously, these beautiful girls are affecting me more than I had first imagined. But that's the price to pay for hiring such stunning women, _non_?" he purred to the crowd, knowing that his charm would win them over easily.

Which he did. With envious ease. French bastard. The crowd tittered and laughed, as his models all blushed and flustered at the compliments he continued to throw at them. However, glancing at the stage's right wing, he noticed one person he hadn't won over and probably will never win over.

His boss.

Oh _merde._

"I suppose we should call for a break, _non_? After all, I can't be the only one affected by such beauties!_ Au revoir_~!" he purred, hiding his panic perfectly. The crowd merely ate it all up and applauded him. His models then waved to the crowds before turning to leave via the left wing of the stage.

Licking his lips nervously, Francis made a quick, awkward bow to his audience and shuffled off to the right wing of the stage. He knew that he probably had a total of ten seconds to savour his last moments on earth, before his boss descended upon him. When those ten seconds were up, Francis yelped as she appeared out of nowhere and yanked him by the arm to a far off corner, away from the models. Once she let go of him, Francis fluffed his hair up and he smoothly took her hand and kissed it gently. Only to have it snap back and slap him with practiced ease.

"You find this whole ordeal funny?" she hissed at him. Francis rubbed his cheek with a hum. "My business is sophisticated and mature! It has no place for silly little boys who can't control their hormones!" she snapped, hands on hips and giving him a mental image of Arthur doing the same.

"Then maybe you shouldn't hire such lovely models," Francis retorted sullenly, raising a brow at her. His boss just stiffened, the atmosphere around them growing colder. Francis figured that she must be long-lost relative of Ivan's or something. She was Russian, so it wasn't that hard to connect a few dots.

"Fine. Then I'll fire those 'lovely models' and you can handpick replacements," she hissed at him. Francis quirked a brow and smiled charmingly. This was supposed to be a punishment? Well if it was, he couldn't wait to find out what a reward was.

"If you so wish it, _ma chérie_," he purred, taking her hand and kissing it again. However, instead of slapping him, she grasped his chin and held it tightly. Her talon-like nails dug into his cheeks, cutting him slightly. _Yeah_, Francis thought, _she had to be arelative of Ivan's_.

"Naturally, this is your last chance. If you screw up once more and pick the wrong type of models, I will fire you! Understood?" she asked her cold eyes boring into Francis' fearful ones. Seriously, Francis could charm the knickers off any girl, except this one. Mainly because Francis acknowledged the fact that she could kill him with nothing more but a piece of lace and a thimble.

"Understood. I shall not let you down. I promise," he gritted out, squirming slightly in her grip. She released him and eyed his problem down below. Scoffing in disgust, she turned away from him and began to walk off.

"I suggest you get that 'problem' sorted out, before I cut it off altogether. I'll finish the show off!" she snarled, before leaving Francis alone backstage. Knowing that he was alone, the French-fancy sighed and allowed his body to tremble from her threat. How was he supposed to get back with Arthur if his boss cut off his assets?

...oh God. What would Arthur think if he saw him like this? The boy would never take him back (not that he would have done in the first place) if he caught him in his current condition. The Brit was angry with him enough, he really didn't need anything else giving Arthur an excuse to hate him more.

Unbeknownst to the frog, the British boy who currently reigned over his thoughts was hiding behind him. At first, Arthur was pissed that his plan hadn't taught Francis a lesson. He then decided to sneak backstage and call Francis out on his indecency, when he overheard the conversation between him and his boss. It was...interesting and very informative. Francis' boss seemed like a lady that Arthur would get along with.

So, he abandoned his idea to humiliate the frog and left instead. This was just the beginning of their revenge. Arthur had plenty of time to strip the frog of his pride, dignity and ego. Arthur paused in his sneaky-sneakiness. _Mental note: never mention the words 'strip' and 'frog' in the same sentence ever again!_

Meanwhile, Francis had shuffled off to the nurse's office. He hoped that she was in a good mood today, you know, the kind of mood that found sexual jokes funny. Yet, as he approached her office, he found his two other friends suffering from the same ailment as he. Except Antonio looked like he was ready to cry and Gilbert looked as if he had been crying. Plus, he seemed to be clutching himself. Whilst whimpering. In agony.

Oh dear.

"_Mes amis_? What is wrong?" he asked, despite how obvious the answer was. Gilbert just glared up moodily, whilst Antonio sniffed and curled up into a ball. The albino eyed the same problem that Francis had as the rest of them and snorted.

"So, some bastard got you too? How unawesome..." he muttered, his voice hoarse and dry. Francis hummed and approached his sniffling Spanish friend, running a hand through his hair.

"And what is this? Such pretty eyes shouldn't be crying," he murmured, slowly running his hand through Antonio's hair, down his neck, down his back and then down, down to his lovely _derrière_. Ah. Only to have Gilbert slap his hand away with a muttered insult. Antonio was completely oblivious to this and sniffed again as he glanced up to Francis.

"My c-coach c-cut me from the t-team. I d-don't know what I d-did...I didn't m-mean to...I wasn't even th-thinking about L-L-Lovino or anything!" Antonio cried, rubbing his eyes furiously. Gilbert glared at the floor, hoping that whoever did this to them would understand the consequences of fucking around with Gilbert's friends.

"Ah...I know _mon amie_, I know..." Francis cooed, cupping Antonio's face and wiping away his tears. Gilbert snorted and scuffed the floor.

"Yeah? At least you didn't get your dick snapped in half by some crazy Russian freak!" he snapped, rubbing himself with a wince. Antonio just blinked at him.

"B-But he didn't snap it in half. Y-Yao turned up to the café in time to st-stop him," the Spaniard said, looking ever so confused. Gilbert restrained from smacking him upside the head. God, it was a good job Antonio was fucking cute, otherwise Gilbert really would have snapped and killed him ages ago. Why the fuck was he even friends with him?

Francis hummed in amusement at their antics, moving his hands away from Antonio's face and then down his shirt to grope his pecs. Gilbert then sighed and punched the French boy in the gut. Ah, now he knew why he was friends with Antonio. Someone had to look out for him and Lovino certainly didn't seem the type for doing the job anymore.

Francis pouted and stepped away, rubbing his stomach tenderly. "Oh, you're so mean, _mon amie_..." he murmured, fluttering his lashes in mock hurt. Gilbert just snorted.

"Yeah? I'll get a whole lot meaner if you don't stop molesting poor Toni!" he retorted, cracking his knuckles. Francis just stuck his tongue out and flipped his hair with a pout. Gilbert rolled his eyes.

Antonio just blinked. "Francis was molesting me?" he asked innocently.

Before Gilbert could smack him and before Francis could burst out laughing, a voice cut into their moment.

"Oh? What are you three doing here?" the school's nurse came out of her office, an eyebrow quirked at the group before her. Antonio just pouted, his lips trembling and his eyes watering again. Gilbert just rolled his eyes and slung an arm around the Spaniard, whilst Francis stepped up with a charming grin.

"_Ma chérie_, as you can see, we are in great need of your assistance," Francis purred, gesturing to himself. The nurse just deadpanned him. She wasn't stupid, she had heard this sort of crap time and time again. Immature bastards.

"Oh really," she mused wryly, folding her arms. Antonio just sniffled and nodded pitifully.

"I'm sure that your capable hands could help us, _non_?" Francis asked, winking at her.

The nurse just smiled at him charmingly, her lips curling in a feline grin. She cocked her head to the side, regarding each boy in turn, before eyeing the French boy with a hard glare.

"Oh? I don't see anything a few cold showers can't take care of. By the way, shouldn't you be old enough to control your hormones by now?" she asked, before slamming her door in their faces. Francis blinked, ignoring the German insults that Gilbert kept spewing out at him.

She wasn't really going to make them walk around for the rest of the day like this...was she? Oh God...something up there must hate them!

"Ah, you...don't mean that really, right _chérie_?" Francis piped up hopefully. A muffled laugh was heard from behind the door, giving him the response he knew he would get.

Oh damn. Something up there definitely hated them.

X-x-X-x-X

At 'The Café Around The Corner' the self-proclaimed 'Revenge Trio' were having a debatable celebration.

"Okay, so our plan sort of didn't work a couple of times, but it worked out all right in the end. Kind of. Anyway, this is our first go at it; we can't expect it to run smoothly, right?" Arthur prompted, as they took as victory sip from their 'on-the-house' milkshakes. What 'on-the-house' really meant was that Kiku will eventually get the money out them, once Alfred releases him from his clutches.

Lovino snorted, his abdomen twitching with a slight pang as remembered the look on Antonio's face when his coach rendered him as a substitute. Lovino wrinkled his nose, as recalled the excitement that Antonio radiated when he informed the Italian that he would be playing 'second-striker' in their up and coming game. Then he remembered that he was supposed to be angry with Antonio and shrugged the memory off.

"Whatever. So, what the hell are we doing next? We punished them based on what your cheating-ex-Frenchy did, so what next?" Lovino asked lazily, stretching out like a cat. Matthew and Arthur glanced at each other and hummed thoughtfully.

"I don't...really know. I suppose we could...out them. For what they really are," Matthew started, rubbing his chin against his bear. "Like a sort of public humiliation, but one that's more...subtle. More sneaky. As you said, we don't want them figuring us out just yet."

Arthur quirked a brow. "Go on. How would we out them?" he asked, genuinely interested. Heck, even Lovino perked up a bit.

"W-Well...it's not really my idea, per se. It's more Alfred's idea than anything else," Matthew murmured. Arthur scoffed, slightly discouraged.

"Oh, then this will surely work!" he mocked, rolling his eyes. Lovino hit him, scowling slightly.

"Shut the fuck up and let him speak! Dickhead," he spat. Arthur flipped him off. Matthew flushed and swallowed slightly.

"Umm...well, Alfred was watching CSI the other day, and it was this episode where a girl had been humiliated at a school dance. You see, she was wearing this dress that had been written on all over. Except, it was written in a UV pen, so you could only see it in the dark, or dim light. I suppose we could do something similar to them. At 'The Boombox', you know?" Matthew finished, slightly flustered at having said so much and gaining so much attention.

Arthur and Lovino rose their eyebrows, very impressed with the Canadian's sneakiness.

"So, anyone got a UV pen?" Lovino asked with a smirk.

* * *

><p><strong>Boom.<strong>

**OMG! Why is this chapter so loooooong~? And why do I torture Antonio so much? Why? He's like, my second favourite character and yet I'm soooo mean to him!**

***Le Sigh***

**Anyways, I would like to thank**: _.qUiCkSiLvEr wInGs., Lodella, Italiangurlinamessedupworld, NekOtaku, Fallen-Petal-94, Night13, Musingsage, skribble-scrabble, afairyprincessinapunkrockband, CookieTower, xXIceXxShatteredXx, Silverfern500, Lovina Hates You, Miggery, Sasha, Angel of the Midnight Sea, XxCapturetheLightxX, Kronos930, shizukoyasu, demonlifehealer, PiwithanE, Crimson Zephyr, xGlass, Jankz _**annnnd **_Readers-Section_**!**

**Special thanks to **_Lovina Hates You, _**for giving me the idea of the nurse scene~! Much love~!  
><strong>

**Okay, so just to clarify things. **_Michelle is Seychelles. Lars is the Netherlands. Seamus is Northern Ireland. Cade is Wales. Andrew is Scotland. Aislinn is Ireland_.** But we don't talk about her~! ^_^ Nah...I like the Irish. I think I'm one of few English people who do~! Irish boys...~! Also, none of the brothers (and sister) represent the countries in real life. 'Cause in real life, none of these countries have been more abusive than England. England was simply awful to Scotland and Ireland. The things the English did to them was just...awful...  
><strong>

**Anyway! That CSI episode actually exists and it is heartbreaking! Heart! Breaking! Bitches! Also, how come I get the feeling that the scenes with Alfred in are my best?**

**Perty please review!**

**Love City Girl**

**x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x**


	9. How To Lighten Up A Little

**Blahhhhh...I've tried hard with the humour in this one. Personal reasons have made it hard to find any humour in my life right now...**

**GOD! I AM SO FREAKING MELODRAMATIC~!**

**Anyway, I would like to say thank you for all of you who alerted and favourited this story. It warms my COLD, HUMORLESS HEART! BLAAAHH!**

**OH MY GOD! LONG CHAPTER IS SO LONG! 10,961 WORDS! NEW RECORD! *LE GASP!***

...

**Enjoy~!**

* * *

><p><span>Chapter 9 - How To Lighten Up A Little<span>

As it turns out, Alfred owned a UV pen. As it also turns out, Alfred had used the UV pen.

As it further more turns out, Matthew and Arthur now needed to burn half of their clothes.

However, what they failed to realise is that they had it easy. Kiku needed to buy a whole new wardrobe every other week, due to Alfred having a habit of writing **MINE! **and **Property of Alfred Fucking Jones! Bitches!** all over his clothes. Arthur would have been proud of how the American had finally taken spelling and grammar into consideration for once.

Said American gave them permission to use his pen on two conditions: a) they needed to return it safely and to have not used it all up and b) if they got arrested at any point in their revenge, they weren't allowed to mention Alfred's part in it. Matthew found it amusing that a boy who had beaten their exes up and had sworn to murder them was only just getting worried about being arrested.

Then again, Matthew never really understood what went through his brother's mind and never really tried to understand it either.

Their revenge for tonight involved breaking into the Trio's apartment and vandalising their clothes. Lovino had managed to persuade Feliciano into getting the information out of Gilbert's brother, so they could figure out when the Trio were going out clubbing. The only reason that Ludwig would know such a thing, is due to the fact that after the seventeenth time of being arrested, he had forced his brother to always tell him when and where he would be going out at night.

Lovino couldn't help but note that this was the first time where Ludwig was actually useful to him.

Even luckier for them was that Gilbert had given Ludwig a spare key to his apartment. Lovino managed to steal it from the German, whilst he had been cooking Feliciano some romantic dinner for the night. The Italian managed to sneak out of his apartment easily, but couldn't help but wonder why Antonio never made him a spare either. He guessed that Francis never thought about giving Arthur one and there was no point in considering why _Matthew_ never received one.

After getting the key, it was just a matter of getting their timing right. They knew that their Trio of ex-boyfriends were out during the afternoon, leaving their apartment free and vulnerable for their exes to break into. Casually, they made their way down the hallways towards their destination. When they reached the apartment, Arthur quickly peered around to check for anyone who might be loitering nearby and used the key that Lovino had given him to open up the door. Matthew, meanwhile, was having a mini-meltdown.

"W-What if they come back early? What if someone sees us? What if we get into trouble? Oh sweet maple!" he whispered, pulling at his hair slightly before Lovino slapped his hands away.

"Will you shut the hell up? They won't come back early and if they do, I'll knock them the fuck out! No one will see us, and if they do I'll knock them the fuck out. And we won't get into trouble because no one will know what we did. Alright?" the Italian hissed back, only causing Matthew more distress with his threats.

"B-But...how will we know what clothes to write on?" he asked once more, peering around the hallways, his paranoia biting at him from the back of his mind.

Lovino smirked. "How about we write on _all_ of their clothes?" he asked, his eyes gleaming dangerously. Arthur scoffed and flicked him on the ear. Lovino responded by kicking his ankle, which lead to Arthur slapping him upside the head. Matthew sighed and proceeded to ask himself as to why he was actually there.

"Will you two stop it? If this is supposed to be sneaky and sophisticated, then we're doing a rubbish job at maintaining as such," Matthew said, exasperated and tired. Lovino just stuck his tongue out and crossed his arms. Arthur started to open the door, flipping Lovino off behind his back.

"In answer to your question, Matthew, it's simple. Francis always sets out the clothes they're going to wear," Arthur clarified. "It's like an OCD-thing of his." Arthur spoke quietly, his eyes clouding over slightly with memories.

Matthew smiled softly. Lovino just blinked.

"What a weird bastard," he muttered, slipping into the room after Arthur. Matthew just peered around and sighed, before slipping in after the pair of them.

The Trio's apartment was in the A2-dormitory block, meaning that their apartment was quite big. They had a small kitchen and living room and an extra large bedroom. However, they didn't have a bathroom and had to share with everyone else on their floor. Arthur, who lived in the C-dormitory block, couldn't help but get jealous. He only had a bedroom and an en-suite bathroom, along Lovino and Alfred. Matthew lived in the B2-dormitory block, just a few metres away from the B1-dormitory block where Kiku lived and had the same, but a kitchen as well. Lovino wrinkled his nose; Ludwig lived in the extravagant A1-dormitory block and had two bedrooms, a bathroom and everything else. He figured it was due to being the headmaster's son.

Biting down the feelings of envy, Arthur headed over to their bedroom. The bedroom was obviously split into thirds. Antonio had the far-right bed, with posters of footballers and matadors cover his walls. It was the brightest part of the bedroom and the tidiest as well. Gilbert was in the middle, with clothes and books sprawled all over the floor and his bed was a mess. On the far-left was Francis' part of the bedroom. His walls were covered with photos of Chanel fashion shows and his own sketched designs as well. His work was set up in piles along the wall, each one colour-coded for each season.

Arthur swallowed down hard and went straight to the wardrobe that lined the wall just left of the door they had come through. Matthew joined him, but Lovino walked over to Gilbert's bed instead. Taking out the UV pen from his pocket, he drew a crude drawing of a broken penis on Gilbert's headboard and proceeded to write: **Five metres? FIVE CENTIMETRES MORE LIKE!** much to Matthew's chagrin.

"Why did you do that?" he asked, watching the ink fade away. Lovino just grinned at him and didn't answer. Arthur the proceeded to smack the Italian upside the head.

"Idiot. You're wasting time!" the Brit hissed, pulling Lovino away from Gilbert's bed and towards the clothes that hung up on the wardrobe doors. Arthur approached the set of clothes that consisted of a lilac V-neck and some black pants. Reluctantly, Arthur had to admit that Francis had good taste. He snatched the pen off Lovino and proceeded to write all over the clothes.

Lovino hissed at him. "And how they fuck do you know those clothes belong to that damn French-fancy?" he asked, his eyes flickering with annoyance. Arthur just flipped him off and shushed him.

"'They smell like primroses. Duh," Arthur murmured softly, turning the shirt around to write all over the back. He resisted the urge to bury his face in the soft material and just breathe in the scent that was pure Francis and carried on writing. Lovino just watched as Arthur printed each word out neatly, taking care to stretch the shirt out to prevent any creases getting in the way. Matthew just smiled slightly.

"You're putting a lot of thought into this," the Canadian noted, watching as the Brit then started to go down the sleeves. Arthur merely hummed as he wrote out the word again and again, starting on the trousers next.

Lovino sighed impatiently, tapping his foot as he waited for Arthur to finish. The Brit took his time, making sure each letter he wrote was legible, large and clear. The Brit figured that as this was going to be a public humiliation, it would first need to attract the public's attention.

As soon as he felt he was finished, Arthur passed the pen to Matthew, deliberately avoiding Lovino's outstretched hand. The Italian hissed as Matthew shook his head and stepped back, leaving Lovino to snatch the pen off Arthur.

"You're welcome," Arthur hissed mockingly, rolling his eyes as Lovino flipped him the bird. Matthew just sighed, his mind torn between escaping the room and staying to write all over Gilbert's clothes. After all, if he actually did this, then he would truly be as much of a delinquent as Arthur and Lovino. For the Canadian, it would be quite a big step for someone like him, who much rather take his anger out on a hockey puck, to take it out on an actual human being.

However, that human being would be Gilbert, so Matthew figured that maybe it wouldn't be that bad.

Lovino meanwhile, had some fun writing all over Antonio's clothes. He knew that they were Antonio's clothes because the Spaniard has a habit of drawing tomatoes on the labels. For Antonio, Francis had picked a short-sleeved, red v-neck with a normal pair of jeans for the Spaniard. Lovino knew that they would look stunning on the Spaniard, but tried to concentrate more on having fun writing on them.

Arthur's eye just twitched as he watched the ink fade away. "A-Abusa-something domestic...oh? What does that mean?" he asked, although he figured he had a clue. Matthew just sighed and perched on the end of Francis' bed.

Lovino just smirked. "_Abusador doméstico_. It means 'domestic abuser' in Spanish. I looked it up. Nice, right?" he asked, tilting his head to the side. Arthur was tempted to comment on how writing it in Spanish didn't make it sound any smarter, but then he'd be arguing with Lovino. Matthew just sighed.

"You're taking that a little too far, don't you think? It's not like Antonio threw you down the stairs or forced your hand onto a hot stove, right?" he piped up, feeling the Italian's heated glare on his head.

"It only takes one damn hit before you end up getting sucked into a lifetime of fucked up abuse, alright? I got out in time, okay?" he insisted, although it sounded like he was trying to reassure himself than anyone else.

Arthur just rubbed his temples. "Whatever...just don't write anything that could get him arrested, alright?" he asked, with Lovino scoffing at him in turn.

"We're supposed to be punishing them!" Lovino spat, his eyes dark as he gripped the pen harder. Matthew just sighed and flopped down onto the bed. A cloud of perfumes and scented stuff flew up into the air, making Matthew gag and choke.

"I know. And we are...however, what we aren't doing is sending them to prison. Is that okay with you?" Arthur hissed back, his eyes flickering over to Francis' bed. Matthew had ceased his choking, but Arthur still couldn't get over the fact that a few days ago he had handcuffed himself to it. How fucking stupid he had been...

"Fine, fine. Let me just finish this up then," the Italian boy stated, flipping the jeans around to scribble out his last message. When the ink faded away, he threw the pen behind him, hitting Matthew perfectly on the head. The Canadian glared at Lovino's head, wishing a million nasty things upon the Italian boy. Lovino just smirked at him and nodded his head in the direction of Gilbert's outfit.

Sighing, he approached the clothes and paused. Francis had Gilbert wearing a plain black t-shirt with faint blue pin-stripes, along with a pair of faded grey jeans. Matthew remembered that Gilbert never liked to wear anything too fancy, because he didn't want his clothes to take away any attention from his natural sexiness.

"W-What should I write?" he said, glancing over to Arthur and Lovino as they leaned against the door watching him. Arthur just shrugged and inspected his nails lazily.

"Whatever you feel like writing. Every nasty name you could call him, write it down. Simple," the Brit said, smiling at the Canadian softly. Matthew nodded and turned to face the outfit hanging up on the wardrobe.

He sighed and with a shaky hand, started to write down one word that made Gilbert flinch. It was a word that had been thrown at him numerous times when Alfred realised that the guy was dating his brother and Matthew knew that it was probably going too far. He hoped that it wouldn't get Gilbert arrested because even he knew that it wasn't true. Glancing over his shoulder, he breathed a sigh of relief when he realised that Arthur and Lovino weren't watching him.

They were too busy glaring at each other and for that, Matthew was grateful; he was embarrassed enough by what he was writing, he really didn't need an audience to go along with it. Taking his time, he carefully printed each letter out in block-capitals and just managed to fit the word in along the chest.

"There. Done," Matthew stated, flinging the pen back at Lovino, hitting the Italian square in the chest. Arthur slapped a hand to Lovino's mouth, before the Italian could start shouting his head off at the Canadian.

"Come on, let's go, before anyone comes back and finds us all here," he hissed at the pair of them, and when they didn't move, he sighed in exasperation. "Today please, people. We haven't got all the time in the world if you haven't noticed!"

Lovino then glared at him and slapped his hand away from his mouth. "Whatever the hell you say, 'boss'," he muttered, complete with air quotes. Arthur smacked him upside the head as they started to leave.

They quietly closed the door and then locked it using Arthur's key. Luckily for them, no one was around to notice the three boys technically committing a crime.

"Right, so they're leaving at around nine. We'll leave about ten minutes earlier, okay?" Arthur asked, gaining two nods in return.

"I can't wait for tonight. This is going to be fucking brilliant," Lovino muttered, his eyes sparkling with excitement.

"I guess," Matthew whispered, fingering a loose thread in his hoodie absentmindedly. Arthur glanced at him and then smirked.

"Oh, by the way, I invited Lars," the Brit whispered, Lovino chuckling darkly as they left Matthew staring after them, like a poor deer in headlights.

X-x-X-x-X

The nightclub called 'The Boombox' was famous as it was the only nightclub around dedicated for teenagers, as long as said teenagers owned a fake ID. The outside of the club looked like a standard red-bricked building with a tacky neon logo of a boombox flashing every other second. There were two sets of double doors; one to enter it and one to leave.

Inside the club, it was dark and foggy and had flashing lights that lit up the dance-floor. The dance-floor was huge and was situated straight in front the stage where numerous DJs played their sets. The bar was situated in the corner of the nightclub, taking up quite a bit of space as the counter stretched out into a circular shape that surrounded the bar itself. There were two spiral staircases inside the club; one that led upstairs to the bathrooms and the extravagant balcony which overlooked the dance-floor and one that led to the nightclub owner's office.

The owner of the nightclub was called Mathias Køhler. No one ever saw him, because he spent most of his time trying to get into the pants of his bartender, who actually didn't tend to the bar. Lukas Bondevik was too busy trying to protect his virtue and as such, left his younger brother, Emil, to handle it by himself. Unfortunately, his brother would most often than not be too busy at home, looking after his pet puffin. Due to this situation, the bar was almost always left alone, therefore leaving all the alcohol free to anyone who wanted to steal it.

Berwald Oxenstierna was the bouncer and sometimes, he would send his precious 'wife' to take over. However, that didn't happen much either, because he would be too busy lavishing said 'wife' with affection to notice that the bar was lacking a bartender. His 'wife' was called Tino Väinämöinen and he was the waiter of the establishment who would take orders from those on the balcony and go down to the bar to fetch the drinks.

How they actually made money when it was free to enter and the alcohol was free as well, was beyond anyone's guess.

Including the Revenge Trio. Arthur entered first, wearing a green turtleneck and some black trousers that he had found hiding underneath the unicorn that Francis had given him. Next was Lovino, who was wearing a maroon v-neck with a black blazer and matching pants. Then there was Matthew. Who was forced to dress up due to Arthur and Lovino pestering him into submission. He hated clubbing and didn't understand why he had to make an effort. Arthur and Lovino made him wear a pair of bootleg grey jeans and a loose white t-shirt. However, Matthew did manage to keep his red hoodie to hide the bare skin that his t-shirt kept showing off.

Wincing at the loud music, Matthew bit his lip and wondered how he was going to enjoy himself here. Lovino, on the other hand, didn't have that problem at all.

"So, I don't know what you two losers are going to do, but I'm off to enjoy myself. Later," the Italian shouted over the music, smirking at them before blending in with the writhing bodies on the dance floor.

Arthur rolled his eyes and shook his head, folding his arms before spotting someone who he found to be a necessity to his plans.

"There's Lars!" Arthur said loudly to Matthew. The Canadian wilted as he viewed the tall guy dancing alongside a blonde girl. He hated how he was pushed in Lars' direction; he knew that the taller boy was very handsome, but he didn't love him. He loved Gilbert and Matthew feared that somehow, his feelings would never change.

"Why did you invite him?" he cried, appalled by Arthur's scheming. The Brit just laughed and walked off to the bar, which was currently being tended to by Tino and Berwald at the same time. The Finnish boy was fending of the Swede's advances with a bottle of _Asti_, much to the amusement of those around him.

Left alone and feeling very much abandoned, Matthew sighed and decided to bite the proverbial bullet. Crossing his hands behind his back, the Canadian shuffled towards the Dutch guy. He felt very conflicted over what he was about to do. Biting his lip, he edged his way behind the Lars' back and reached up to tap him on the shoulder.

Tapping him twice quickly, Matthew stepped back and averted his eyes immediately. He felt like some sort of escort-boy, but that would mean that Arthur and Lovino were his pimps and that just made him squirm uncomfortably. He wasn't even getting paid for this.

"Oh, Matthew," Lars said, his deep eyes lighting up as he discreetly pushed the blonde girl away. "I didn't realise you were here."

The Canadian just shrugged, eyeing the curious look the blonde girl gave him. "W-Well...I am...and, um, I guess Arthur invited you," he said lamely, biting his lip as the blonde girl pushed the Dutch boy back.

Lars smirked. "On _your_ behalf apparently. This is my sister, Bella, by the way. Just ignore her and she'll leave eventually."

The blonde girl pouted and edged her way towards Matthew. "Eh? He's a cute one! Just don't hurt him, okay?" she said, a feline grin on her face.

Matthew's eyes widened as he stepped back. "O-Oh, I w-wouldn't hurt...I mean, I don't th-think I could h-hurt—" he stammered, wondering how the girl could belief that someone like _him_ could hurt someone like _Lars_.

Bella waved his stutters off. "I was talking to Lars! Oh well! Have fun~!" she sang and skipped off to melt in the throng of dancers. Matthew wilted at the prospect of being alone with the Dutch boy, before having his entire body pulled flush against Lars' chest.

"Want to dance?" Lars asked, cocking his head slightly.

Matthew blushed, smelling a distinct smokey-scent radiating from the boy before him. He chewed on his lip nervously whilst avoiding Lars' eyes. Lars had such beautiful eyes, probably a pair of the most beautiful that Matthew had ever seen; he winced at the painful reminder of how Gilbert's were the most beautiful, full-stop.

"S-Sure...I don't mind," he mumbled against Lars' chest.

The music sent vibrations thrumming into the air and up Matthew's spine. He curled his arms around Lars' shoulders whilst the Dutch boy gripped Matthew's hips tightly. The music was slow and had a deep bass-line; allowing couples to get intimate on the dance-floor and grind into one another seductively.

Lars pulled Matthew in further, taking the initiative to grind softly against him. Matthew's eyes widened and started to tremble in Lars' grip. He had never been held in such a way before as he had never danced with Gilbert in this way. It was close and intimate and the Canadian didn't know how to react to such a feeling. The vibrations of the music thrummed into his body, all the way up to the roots of his hair.

Unfortunately for him, he had forgotten about the bird that nested in there who had woken up as soon as Matthew entered the club. The music pained Gilbird's sensitive ears, but it was the close smell of smoke that really put him on edge. Peeking out of blond strands, Gilbird glanced up to view a very tall smokey-boy with very intense eyes standing too close to Matthew for his personal liking.

Annoyed that such a boy was trying to take Matthew away from his master, Gilbird fluffed up and tried to chirp out a warning that the boy really needed to back off.

"PIYO!" he trilled, his high voice just about reaching Lars' ears over the music. The Dutch boy paused in his dancing and glanced down with confusion. Matthew just moaned as he felt his face burn in embarrassment. He had specifically told Gilbird to keep quiet and to stay put if he wanted to watch this revenge and Gilbird had promised on his master's life that he would be good.

Matthew wondered if that meant that Gilbert's life wasn't worth that much...

"Did you hear something...cheep?" Lars asked, his deep voice sounding awkward as he spoke the last word. Matthew laughed nervously and pulled away, his eyes flickering this way and that as he tried to avoid Lars' intense gaze.

"Um, no. Um, what are you t-talking about?" he said nervously, running a hand through his hair and discreetly poking Gilbird as he did so. Lars just quirked a brow and cocked his head.

"I definitely heard a...cheep. What are you hiding?" Lars asked, leaning lower and cupping Matthew's face to force him to look up. The Canadian quivered slightly and sighed. The Dutch boy's hands were soft and warm and he could feel the strength behind them in Lars' tense muscles.

"O-Okay, just don't laugh. I stole Gilbert's pet bird because he dumped me and now I don't know how to get rid of him because he's turned my hair into his nest and he keeps pestering me for pancakes and I'm running out of flour and I can't use pancake mix because that has eggs in it and Gilbird can't eat eggs because that would be cannibalism and I...and I...and now I'm stuck with him!" Matthew ranted in one breath, his chest heaving slightly.

Lars just blinked and gave him a crooked smile. "Hn. How cute," he said simply, watching as the Canadian's face slowly blossomed in a light-pink flush.

Matthew's mind went blank for a second as his blush deepened. Smiling, he stepped a healthy three feet away from the Dutch boy and held up his hands. Coughing nervously, Matthew glanced away and bit his lip.

"I'm...um, going to get a drink," Matthew mumbled, averting his eyes as he flushed. Lars just shrugged and pulled him back, kissing him on the cheek.

"Whatever you want. I'll stay here," he stated, his deep voice causing Matthew to shiver. The kiss left a cooling sensation on his skin; so different to the burning feel of Gilbert's lips. Matthew didn't know if he wanted to get over the albino, but something about Lars' kiss sent him reeling with confusion.

"Y-Yeah...okay," Matthew said, nodding his head before pulling away from the tall boy and shuffling his way towards to bar. His head hurt and his heart hurt and he wanted to kill his 'friends' for making him use Lars like this. He remembered Bella's words about hurting the Dutch boy and wondered if it really was possible to hurt him.

He hated to think what the blonde girl would do to him when all this was over and done.

X-x-X-x-X

At the bar, Arthur was already downing some whiskey shots. He was careful not to take too many; the last time he had become exceedingly drunk, he woke up to discover that he was somehow dating Francis. _Fuck_, Arthur snorted,_ that was not going to happen again_. He was sat with Lovino, who had joined him earlier and now both were watching the entrance eagerly. Arthur had given Lovino a camera to capture the very moment when their dickhead ex-boyfriends walked through the door.

"Please tell me that isn't a camera," Matthew piped up from behind them, frowning as he saw the object in Lovino's hands.

Lovino jumped a little at the sudden interruption of the silence. "Wear a fucking bell! Jesus! And yes, it is a damn camera, what of it?" he demanded, glaring at the boy who he considered to be half-ninja, half-Canadian. Arthur snarled and slapped him upside the head.

"Stop being a twat! And yes, I gave him my camera. I wanted this moment to be something I could see again and again. Plus, you can never have enough blackmail in life," the Brit explained, swirling his sixth whiskey shot. He was proud to say that he was doing well so far; there wasn't even a minor slurring of his voice.

Matthew just sighed and shrugged. "Fair enough," he mumbled, and proceeded to try and gain Tino's attention. However, the Finnish man was too busy trying keep Berwald's hand off of him and was completely oblivious to anyone else around him.

"Ahem. A-hem! Hey, I'm talking to you!" Matthew stated, his frustration rising at an exceedingly fast rate. The Canadian sighed, he could just steal the drinks, like everyone else...but he really didn't want to sink any further than the level that Arthur and Lovino have dragged him to.

Matthew tried getting Tino's attention again, but to no avail. He was ready to all out scream at him, when Tino, who had glanced longingly to the doors, gasped and cried out in shock. The people surrounding him turned to see what he was looking and gaped as well.

"Oh! What happened to you?" Tino asked, his eyes widening in shock. Matthew sighed and proceeded to allow his face to meet the bar's surface repeatedly, whilst hearing Lovino going crazy with the camera and Arthur's muffled cackle.

"Hey...hey Matthew. Hey, stop that! You'll become as bloody 'special' as your brother if you keep doing that, and may I reassure you that that's not a good thing!" the Brit scolded, catching Matthew by his hood and pulling him to face the doors.

Lovino grinned at him. "It looks fucking amazing, right?" he asked, snapping away with his camera. Matthew couldn't help but silently agree, despite the fact that doing so made him as much of a delinquent as Arthur and Lovino combined. Still, as his eyes ran up and down the figures over the three boys before them, he couldn't resist a smug smile at their expense.

Antonio's shirt had been scrawled all over with insults and nasty threats, varying from Spanish to English. And because Lovino felt like spicing it up a bit, Antonio's jeans had been decorated as well. Lovino's personal favourite message was the one written across Antonio's ass in big, bold letters, which read: **HIS SECRET? IMPLANTS!**

Francis, meanwhile, had his shirt and trousers decorated with the word **CHEAT** across them. Arthur didn't get as creative as Lovino, he preferred a more simple way of getting his message across. Although, he couldn't resist when writing the message: **WARNING: CONTAINS CRABS! **along the crotch of Francis' trousers. Which Arthur hoped wasn't actually true because that would mean that there was a small chance of having them himself.

Then there was Gilbert, who Matthew had a lot of reservations about. No one could have guessed what he would have written and his friends suspected that he probably wrote something low-key and harmless. So when Gilbert entered the room, even Lovino spat out his drink in shock. Across his shirt, in large letters and bold print was the word: **PEDOPHILE!**

"Pe-Pedophile?" Arthur spluttered, his eyes widening with disbelief. Matthew merely shrugged.

"I was fifteen when he asked me out. He was seventeen. Alfred reckoned that he was some sort of pedophile because of how old he is," he explained with a wrinkle of his nose. He knew that Gilbert wasn't like that; in fact, the albino hated kids with the exception of Ludwig when the boy was younger. Lovino just cackled, clutching the bar's surface for support. Arthur just quirked his brows, clearly impressed with Matthew's nerve.

"Well, I guess when they say it's always the quiet ones, they seem to have a point," Arthur noted, watching Matthew's eyes twinkle in mischief. Lovino just smirked and flicked the Canadian on the ear.

"Sneaky fucker!" he stated, but his tone was soft and almost sounded like he was giving Matthew a loving nickname. "I never knew you would do that of all people!"

Matthew grinned. "So I guess I do have balls after all," he retorted lightly. Lovino just snorted and started to flick through the photos he had taken.

Arthur hummed with amusement, glancing up at the Trio who appeared to be quite confused with all of the attention that seemed to be directed at them. They were used to being gawped at and lusted over; but not when people were laughing at them and pointing whilst talking in hushed whispers. The Brit smiled a very evil smile before turning his attention to Matthew. The Canadian had seemed to be trying to gain Tino's attention again.

Suffice to say, he was failing miserably.

Arthur just shook his head in amusement.

"Hey, why don't you go back to Lars? I'm sure he's missing you and now would be a perfect time to make Gilbert jealous," Arthur noted, nudging Matthew slightly. The Canadian scowled in return and glanced over to the Dutch boy. Lars was leaning against the far wall, keeping an eye on his sister as she steadily made her way through wine glass after wine glass. Noticing the Canadian staring at him, Lars inclined his head and smirked, causing Matthew to squirm uncomfortably.

"He's really nice, but I don't like using him like this," Matthew mumbled, biting his lip nervously. Lovino scoffed.

"Listen, put it like this, you're not using him. You're obviously attracted to him and he obviously wants in your damn pants. You get a hot fake-boyfriend and he gets in your pants. It's a win-win situation," Lovino declared, gaining Gilbird's attention at once.

"PIYO!" Gilbird spat, popping up to glare at the boy who dared imply that Matthew should hurt Gilbert in such a way. Lovino stared at the bird and groaned, rubbing his temples with exasperation.

"Did you really have to bring him?" he complained, giving the bird a fleeting glare.

Matthew sighed. "Yes, yes I did. He didn't want to be left alone again and so I figured he could at least see some of the stuff I'm doing to his master," he said, reaching up to stroke Gilbird's ruffled feathers. "And it isn't a win-win situation. And I am using him. And he doesn't 'want in my pants'!" Matthew insisted, complete with air quotes.

Lovino smirked. "But you don't deny that you're attracted to him," he said smugly. Arthur punched him in the arm.

"Stop teasing him. But yes Matthew, go back to Lars and make Gilbert jealous," he practically commanded. Matthew sighed and jumped off the bar stool.

"Whatever," he muttered and stalked off, flipping them both off as he went. Lovino smirked in amusement whilst Arthur gaped in shock. And here he thought that Matthew was the polite one. He frowned and wondered if Alfred was rubbing off on his brother...

Meanwhile, their ex-boyfriends soon discovered that something was very, very wrong with their clothes, which would explain why people were laughing and pointing at them.

"What. The actual. Fuck?" Gilbert hissed out of gritted teeth. His eyes burned with rage as his face burned with humiliation. The albino glared at the word on his chest, hoping to scare it off. However, he had to admit it, he felt like the lucky one out of the three. At least he could cover his up easily and he did so, by crossing his arms tightly across his chest.

Francis sighed, having a hunch as to who was behind this and just rubbed his temples. He guessed he deserved this, although it was just a tad childish. If Arthur wanted to say something to him, he could have just come up and said it to his face, rather than let the whole world view their private business. However, he couldn't help but note Arthur's beautiful penmanship. God...everything that boy did was just so...so...

"—mean. Why would someone do this?" a voice broke through his thoughts, causing Francis to glance up at a certain Spanish sweetheart.

Antonio was silently reading out the Spanish and English insults on his shirt, his heart breaking ever-so-slightly as he translated some of the more...vicious insults. His eyes sparkled with unshed tears, despite a flame erupting with anger that burned in his stomach. Francis frowned at the unhappy expression on his friend's face.

The French boy read the insults on his friend's clothes and then glanced down in disappointment at his own outfit.

"'Cheat'? How unoriginal," Francis noted, and then glanced further down to his graffitied crotch. "Oh! What lies! This is just purely terrible!" he moaned, covering his crotch with both hands. How was he supposed to flirt with people with his clothes in such a state?

"You think that's unawesome, you should see _this_," Gilbert stated, his voice emotionless as he gestured towards their Spanish friend. The albino appeared to be highly disturbed by what was written on Antonio, piqued Francis' interest.

The French boy glanced over to Antonio, his gaze falling down to the Spaniard's lovely _derrière_ as it always did. He blinked and then turned to Gilbert.

"Let's not tell him about that one," he murmured, Gilbert nodding mutely.

X-x-X-x-X

Arthur and Lovino sniggered, ducking behind groups of people. They watched as the Trio floundered about for awhile, before proceeding to split up, with Francis and Antonio heading in their direction, and with Gilbert swaggering off to the dance floor. The albino kept his arms firmly crossed against his chest, snarling at anyone who dared to look at him, let alone laugh at him.

Francis and Antonio, however, decided that it would be better to drown their sorrows, rather than leave the club to get a change of clothes. Perching onto a pair of stools, they took no notice of the people around them as they stood up and left, hissing out insults to the two boys as they did so. Francis just waved them away, whilst Antonio just sighed sadly.

"You know, _mon cher_, I believe I know who did this," Francis stated wryly, as Antonio stole a couple of wine bottles from behind the bar.

"Oh? I think I do too…I just don't want to say it out loud," the Spaniard replied, checking over the dates on the wine.

"_Oui_, I understand," the French boy replied. "I just believe that the past few days mourning my lost relationship with my ex-beloved were all in vain."

Antonio nodded. "Uh huh. I feel like I should try and find Lovino to talk to him, but I know he'll probably just get angry again. Plus, I think he's avoiding me," he said sadly, popping the cork off his wine bottle.

"Ah, they're all avoiding us. It's such a sad world we live in," Francis mused, eyeing the beautiful people around them, before glancing back down to his shirt. "However, if this is how my lovely English rose truly feels, then I guess I should attempt to move on." His voice sounded strained and Antonio knew that Francis was trying to find outlets for his pain.

"But you love him," the Spaniard insisted whilst frowning. Francis waved his words away.

"Of course, but I don't think he loves me anymore. And we're no longer together, so I should try to find pleasure elsewhere, _non_?" he replied, hiding his pain like a professional. However, Antonio saw straight through the facade and furrowed his brows.

"With who though?" he asked. He really wanted to ask 'why', but knowing Francis, he wouldn't get a straight answer. Francis smirked and gestured behind the Spanish sweetheart.

"There are two lovely girls sitting beside you, _mon cher_, it would be such a waste to ignore them," he stated, winking devilishly. Glancing behind, the Spaniard saw two girls, perching on the edges of their seats as they tried to lean away from the two boys next to them. Antonio chuckled and shook his head, pointing at Francis' shirt.

"It won't work if you're wearing that," he warned, fingering the lettering on Francis' shirt.

Francis just shrugged. "These girls look harmless; they won't pay heed to such filthy words. They'll be too mesmerised by my beautiful eyes," he purred, before slipping off his bar stool and prowled his way over to the aforementioned girls. Antonio rolled his eyes and decided to watch the proceedings fold out. He knew exactly which girl Francis would go for.

She had the same choppy, short blonde hair as a certain Brit, but she had soft brown eyes instead. She wasn't the perfect replacement for Arthur, but Francis figured that she would do for now. He took her hand smoothly, ignoring the shocked look on her face, and proceeded to kiss it sweetly.

"Ah, _ma chérie_, would you care for a drink with me?" he purred, ignoring Antonio's muffled giggles. The girl quirked a brow, before scoffing with disgust.

"No thanks. I'm allergic to cheaters," she hissed, and then pointed to his crotch. "And I don't fare well with STI's either!"

"What, you're willing to believe such venomous words upon my shirt?" Francis asked, a little incredulous at her harsh words. The girl stood up and laughed.

"Obviously! Especially if that's how you try and pick up girls," she retorted scornfully, flipping her hair over her shoulder. Francis smirked and straightened up to his full height, his blue eyes narrowing with annoyance.

"Oh, well then, no wonder you're all alone and drinking at the bar. Especially if that's how you treat guys who want to buy you the same drink you're planning to drown your life in!" he hissed back, a cruel smirk on his face. He absentmindedly heard Antonio's sharp gasp of shock, but didn't pay him any attention.

Instead, he paid attention to the girl before him as her face twisted into one of disgust. Without seeing it coming, Francis' head was snapped back as the girl back-handed him, her rings leaving shallow cuts in his face. Her friend then splashed her drink in his face and pulled her friend away.

As the girl and her friend stormed off, Francis pouted and rubbed his sore cheek, ignoring Antonio giggling at him in the background.

"Those girls were obviously lesbians," the French boy muttered, causing the Spaniard to burst out into more peals of laughter.

Gilbert wasn't faring much better. He hadn't been slapped or kicked, but he was given a lot of cold shoulders. Gritting his teeth, he realised that no one wanted to dance with him and everyone would immediately vacate an area whenever he approached it. He glanced down and glared coldly at the word on his chest. He hated the word so much; he wasn't even a fucking pedophile!

However, Gilbert noticed that there was something even worse than his shirt being written on. Something even worse than being avoided by attractive people in a nightclub. Something that made his heart stop and his blood freeze in his body.

Standing just a few metres away from him was his Matthew. Beautiful and lovely and wearing that adorable red hoodie. The boy was smiling that shy, soft smile that sent Gilbert's hormones crazy; his violet eyes were heavy-lidded and there was a pink flush on his cheeks. Gilbert clenched his fists as he saw the reason as to why Matthew was smiling and blushing.

There was a guy dancing with Matthew; a guy who was tall and strong and had his hands all over Matthew's body. They were dancing too close for Gilbert's liking, grinding softly against each other and talking to each other in hushed whispers. Gilbert knew who that guy was. That guy was Lars; some dickhead who had threatened to burn his cock off and kill him if he ever hurt Matthew. Lars...the dickhead with a crush on his Matthew.

Gilbert narrowed his eyes as he watched Lars pull Matthew in close. He hated how close they were, hated how they were dancing, hated how Lars was making Matthew squirm and blush and wriggle in his arms. He fucking hated it and refused to allow it to carry on anymore.

"What the hell is going on here?" he demanded, striding straight up to the couple. Matthew jumped at the sound of his voice and turned around with panic flashing in his eyes.

"O-Oh! G-Gilbert…what are you doing here?" he asked, his voice betraying how nervous he was. Lars noticed this and glared at the albino for causing it. He knew what Gilbert had done and would have followed his threat up days ago; but Matthew begged him not to and Lars couldn't deny the Canadian anything whilst looking so cute.

"What am_ I_ doing here? What the hell are _you_ doing here with this dickhead?" Gilbert hissed again, feeling hurt and angry and confused by the whirlwind of emotions the clustered up his mind.

"I was dancing with him. I was having fun with him. Or at least I was until you came up and ruined it!" Matthew spat back, getting defensive and annoyed. Gilbert appeared to be offended with that statement.

"Having 'fun' with _him_? You could have fun with _me_! Listen, birdie, I don't know what I did. I don't know why you're doing this, but please, don't just...give up on this whole thing we have going on. Come back to me and we can talk this through," Gilbert said, trying hard to get the message into Matthew's head.

"I don't want to have fun with you! I'm done with you!" Matthew cried back, pressing his body further into Lars'. Gilbert just blinked.

"'Done with me'? What does that even mean? Mattie, you're going to have to explain what the hell is going on, because I really don't get what is going through your mind. Just tell me what I did wrong and we can get through it," Gilbert insisted. "You can't give up. You can't just leave me. I need you!"

"You need _help_! That's what you need Gilbert. A lot too suggesting by your shirt," Matthew retorted, giving Gilbert's shirt a sly glance. Gilbert just growled.

"Fuck the shirt and come ba—" Gilbert began, but stopped himself when he heard a familiar chirp that reached him over the music.

"Piyo~!" Gilbird squeaked, watching his master trying to win over the pancake-boy back. Gilbird tweeted sadly as he realised that Gilbert was failing in trying to persuade Matthew to get back together with him. Instead, Matthew had turned back to the tall smokey-boy and pressed himself further into the embrace. Gilbird was not happy with this sort of display. He didn't understand human-mating rituals, but he did know that this was hurting his master. Said master gazed at Matthew with confusion, before glancing up to the boy's hair. The Canadian swallowed hard as he felt Gilbird try and hide amongst Matthew's fluffy blond hair.

"The fuck? Is my baby in there? Were you the one to steal him?" Gilbert demanded, his eyes reflecting the anger building up. Lars quirked a brow, as Matthew shifted uncomfortably against him.

"I don't know what you're talking about," Matthew replied, averting his eyes with a sigh. Gilbird blinked, hushing his tweeting down to an almost silent chirp as he picked up on the longing tone in his master's voice. He wanted to go back, but knew that unless Gilbert had learnt his lesson, then he had to remain with Matthew.

"Is my fucking baby nesting in your hair?" Gilbert snapped furiously.

"No, he isn't! Your 'baby' must have run away when he realised what a bastard his master is, eh!" Matthew spat back, his anger bubbling over the surface. Matthew understood the fact that Gilbert was angry and hurt, but that was no reason to start snapping at him. And damn it...his freaking verbal tic had appeared again.

Gilbert faltered slightly, blinking at the harsh tone of Matthew's voice. He had never heard the Canadian's voice like that; not even when they had broken up. Lars took that as an opportunity to leave the dance floor. Hooking Matthew's arm through his, Lars nodded his farewell to the speechless albino and pulled the Canadian away. Matthew allowed himself to be pulled, too angry and too shocked to resist.

He could faintly hear Gilbert's muffled protests and shouts over the music, but he paid no heed to him. Instead, Matthew just froze up inside as he remembered who he voluntarily pressed himself up against. _Oh God_, he thought,_ I am officially corrupted_. Matthew resigned himself to his fate: he was going to hell on a silver platter.

Whilst Matthew was in middle of an internal battle with himself, Lars gazed down and watched the variety of emotions dancing across the Canadian's face. He decided it was probably best to distract the cutie with a question that had sprung spontaneously to his mind.

"So..._eh_?" Lars questioned, eyebrow quirked and he was smirking as he looked down at the Canadian. Matthew just flushed at the deep voice that whispered in his ear and flushed even harder as he realised that even Lars had picked up on his ridiculous verbal tic.

"It's a verbal tic...I've tried really hard to get rid of it," he muttered, his face burning red. Lars just shrugged.

"'S'alright. It's cute," he said casually, as if he had been commenting on the weather and not Matthew's vocal insecurity.

Said Canadian turned so red, he actually believed that he was in danger of hemorrhaging.

X-x-X-x-X

Back at the bar, Arthur was watching Francis getting turned down again and again. The French boy was trying relentlessly to pick up anyone who had short blond hair, or bright green eyes; if he was lucky, they had both. However, no one wanted to have anything to do with him and continuously rejected him in a variety of ways. From being slapped to being kicked where it hurt most, Francis felt that he had been run over once and then reversed over for good measure. And Arthur just laughed. This was fun. It was amusing. It was something the Brit wouldn't forget about for a long, long time.

And even if he did, the photos Lovino took would remind him of this special night.

However, the Brit knew that fun and games could only last until some got hurt. He and Lovino had been enjoying themselves immensely, until Matthew joined them with Lars in tow. This led to Gilbert witnessing the three of them together who then went off to inform his friends about the atrocity he had just witnessed.

Whilst the Trio argued about what they were going to do, Lars meanwhile, had kissed Matthew on the hand, informing him that he had just seen his sister make-out with a wall and that it would probably be best if he drove her home. The Canadian just stuttered and turned bright red, whilst his so-called friends sniggered in the background.

Seeing Lars kiss Matthew made Gilbert's blood boil. The albino watched the Dutch boy leave, cursing him and cussing him out as he did. Deciding it was best to leave Gilbert until he calmed down, Francis took it upon himself to confront his ex-boyfriend.

The French boy pushed the people separating Arthur and he out of the way, ignoring their protests and insults, and glared down at the Brit. "Arthur!" he called out, gaining the Brit's attention. Arthur's eyes flashed with panic quickly, before he schooled his features into cool indifference.

Francis did not appreciate the lack of reaction.

"You did this, am I right? How very immature of you. I honestly thought that you had more class that that. Then again, you are English," Francis said, his eyes flashing with hurt and anger as he watched Arthur's body tense up defensively.

"Fuck you frog," Arthur spat, feeling the presence of Lovino and Matthew behind him. It felt nice to know that his friends were willing to stand up for him; it was a feeling that no one had ever given him apart from Alfred. Francis rolled his eyes at Arthur's typical response and turned to find his friends were beside him as well.

"What the fuck is going on here?" Gilbert eloquently asked, swallowing hard as he eyed Matthew standing behind Arthur.

"Lovi~!" Antonio sang, his eyes bright with happiness. Gilbert rolled his eyes and subtly kicked the Spaniard's right calf. Antonio flinched and remembered that he had no right in calling Lovino something so loving and sweet. "I-I mean...Lovino," he murmured brokenly, his eyes downcast and dull.

However, Lovino refused to allow Antonio's broken tone to soften his resolve and stood his ground. He sneered as some of their spectators shot Antonio pitying looks and wondered if the whole world had gone mad. He didn't answer Antonio at all and instead wrinkled his nose and turned his head away in disgust. Francis sighed at his actions and discreetly held the Spaniard's hand in the dark, feeling it tremble and clench.

"Did you do this to us?" Francis repeated his question, his voice was patronising and his eyebrow was raised. Gilbert blinked and turned to face the French boy with confusion. Glancing down at his ruined shirt, Gilbert turned to face Matthew with disbelief in his eyes.

"Matt...you didn't seriously do this unawesome shit to us, did you?" Gilbert asked, searching Matthew's violet eyes for the truth.

Matthew licked his lips nervously and stared straight back into Gilbert's crimson eyes. "No. Don't be stupid. Why would I waste my time getting back at you, when I'm already _over_ you?" he asked, tilting his head slightly. The albino just blinked.

"What? _Over_ me? Are you fucking serious? How the fuck could you get over the me that quickly?" he demanded fiercely, his eyes flashing dangerously. He hated the feeling that perhaps Matthew didn't think him special enough; he hated the feeling that Matthew never really loved him, therefore making it easy to get over him. He hated feeling like shit.

The Canadian just laughed and turned away. "Clearly you're not as special as you like to make out!" he snapped back, his hands clenching tightly. Gilbert flinched as Matthew's words stabbed at him through the heart. Lovino slung an arm around his shoulders and sneered at the group before him.

"Fuck off and die, please. Right now. Or later. I don't really give a damn either way. Just die sometime tonight. 'Cause you deserve it. Just saying," Lovino stated, his tone bored and monotonous, as he inspected his nails. Antonio swallowed hard.

"Y-You don't really mean that, do you?" he said, clearing his throat for a stronger voice. "'Cause that's just...that's just..."

"Unfair? Not nice? A bit mean?" Arthur prompted, cocking his head slightly. Antonio's eyes snapped up to the Brit and he felt his hackles rise instantly. Antonio and Arthur never really seen eye-to-eye on most matters. They had been considered rivals in almost everything when they were younger. The climax of this rivalry came about during a drawing competition when they were eleven and Arthur had 'accidentally-on-purpose' set fire to Antonio's drawing of a ship. They had reluctantly agreed to be somewhat civil to each other, when Arthur started going out with Francis.

But, Antonio figured that, considering the fact that Arthur isn't going out with Francis anymore, he could go back to being an absolute bastards to the British boy.

"Pathetic actually!" Antonio snapped back, his anger coming to surface when he switched his attention from Lovino to Arthur. The Spaniard could get angry with Arthur. He could be mean to Arthur. Antonio never had to _care_ about whether he hurt the Brit's feelings or not.

"Pathetic? You really want to know what's pathetic? Automatically accusing your ex-boyfriends of fucking up your clothes, without any sound logic or reason! That's pretty fucking pathetic!" Arthur hissed back, narrowing his eyes at the Spanish boy before him.

"Then who else would do this?" Francis cut in smoothly, releasing Antonio's hand to dramatically gesture in the air. "Who would do this to us?"

Lovino snorted. "Who wouldn't do this to you? They're only telling the truth, right?" he asked, amused with the whole situation.

Francis faltered slightly, glancing down at the shirt he was wearing for a second. A wave of hurt and regret hit him as he glanced up to see Arthur's angry, yet utterly beautiful face. "I guess they are...but that only solidifies the reason as to why I believe that you did this!" he insisted, his voice getting stronger and more confident as he spoke.

Gilbert smirked at them, sliding between Francis and Antonio to sling and arm around them both. "Ah...this is really fucked up. You three doing shit like this...I mean, why else would you three be hanging out. You don't even like each other!" he said, his voice dark and amused.

Matthew just smiled and blinked at him. "But we found something that we could bond over. Something we all have in common," he stated lightly, leaning against Lovino slightly.

The albino just smirked. "Oh yeah, and what's that?" he asked, his dark eyes full of mirth.

"Dickhead ex-boyfriends," Matthew replied, his eyes innocently blinking. Gilbert faltered slightly, his smirk slipping off his face entirely. Antonio's anger drained out of him, leaving him feeling empty and cold. Francis just laughed, shaking his head.

"So you did do this. You planned this, didn't you? As some sort of silly revenge?" he asked, his eyes as cold as the laugh he emitted. Arthur held back his wince and gritted his teeth.

"Don't be so bloody stupid," he hissed. "Of course we didn't do this!" He really didn't want them to figure everything out right now; not when their revenge had just begun. He wanted them to suffer, not give them any ammo to try and hit back at them.

"Oh, and what's your excuse then? If you didn't do this," Francis prompted, folding his arms and looking down his nose at the Brit.

"We're _not_ that petty," Arthur hissed darkly, glaring hatefully at Francis.

X-x-X-x-X

"We're so damn petty! I fucking love it!" Lovino crowed, his eyes gleaming with mirth.

They were sat outside the club on a brick-wall, waiting for their taxi to come pick them up. They had decided that World War III could wait a few more years and thought it best to call it quits for the night and left their angry ex-boyfriends fuming at the bar. Luckily, they didn't come after them. Something that pleased Arthur immensely.

"So, what next?" Matthew asked, glancing up at the night-sky with a hum. Arthur quirked a brow at him.

"You're a little eager, aren't you?" he asked, smiling a little. "Shouldn't we leave it a couple of days?" Matthew just shrugged.

"You're the one who wanted this revenge to be well planned out, right? Plus, we almost got caught tonight, so I agree, we should leave it a couple of days. But we should use those days to plan it. Duh," Matthew muttered, smirking slightly. Oh! How corrupted he has become~!

"Cunning fucker," Lovino murmured, impressed slightly, but only slightly. "So any ideas?"

Arthur hummed. "I think you should continue with this jealousy thing," he mused, eyeing Matthew. The Canadian wilted slightly, knowing what was coming next.

"Yeah, so keep flaunting yourself to that druggie-bastard, alright?" Lovino drawled with a smirk. Matthew huffed and glanced off to the side.

"I am not going to prostitute myself for your entertainment!" he stated, violet eyes flashing darkly for a second. Lovino shuffled a few inches away from him; he clearly remembered what Matthew was like when he became angry and the Italian really didn't want to mess around with the 'possessed' Canadian any longer than necessary.

"Of course you're not prostituting yourself," Arthur said consolingly. "If you were a prostitute, we would be paying you to do this. And we're not."

Matthew snorted; he failed to see how that was supposed to cheer him up. "Pffft...you should be though," he muttered, sulking a little. Lovino just snorted and flicked Matthew on the ear, gaining an evil glare from Gilbird who was hidden in Matthew's hair. The bird chirped sharply at him, fluffing up as a warning.

"Stupid bird," Lovino muttered under his breath, folding his arms and glancing away from the Canadian and his damn fluff-ball.

"But really now, what should we concentrate on next?" Arthur asked, lifting a leg up to rest his arm on his knee. Matthew glanced to Lovino and then to Arthur again. He wasn't going to offer up another idea; he was traumatised enough watching Gilbert getting his manhood crushed.

"Hmmm..." Lovino hummed, chewing his lip slightly. "Remember when I asked you about what would you do to that French-bastard? And you said something about replacing his shampoo with hair-removal cream? What about that, except...explore the idea a bit more," he purred, his eyes glittering darkly.

Matthew glanced to him, looking rather horrified to be honest. Arthur just smirked, his eyes gleaming with interest. Gilbird was half tempted to bite the other boy's eyes out. The bird knew that staying with the Canadian was only temporary; he would have to go back to Gilbert eventually. But how was he supposed to nest in Gilbert's hair if he didn't have any?

"Go on," the Brit insisted, sitting up and leaning in further towards the Italian. Matthew just sighed and shuffled towards Lovino as well.

The Italian just smirked smugly. "What, can't think of your own damn ideas? How boring," he stated, before sitting up himself. "So, we swap the shampoo for hair removal cream—"

"Conditioner as well," Arthur interrupted, and then flushed when the other boys glanced at him questioningly. "Francis only uses conditioner," he muttered, looking down with his face blushing pink. Matthew gave him an amused smirk, whilst Lovino just scoffed.

"What-fucking-ever. So we swap their hair-care-shit for removal cream. That's damn great and all, but why not go further? We can do so much fucking more than just that!" Lovino insisted, his honey-eyes darkening as his mind revolved around the idea further. Using hair-removal cream would be hilarious, but even he knew that it would be simply awful if Antonio were to become bald. Arthur just quirked a brow and snorted.

"So, what has 'Lovino's fucked-up mind' got for us then?" he mocked, tilting his head slightly. Lovino just smiled, his pointed teeth gleaming slightly.

"Well, my idea goes a little something like this..."

* * *

><p><strong>o.O Whaaaat? You thought I'd spill the beans on their next idea that quickly?<strong>

**Ahaaa~! Nope. I'mma make you all wait. 'Cause I'm nice. You know. ^_^**

**ANYWAY! Thank you to: **_Miggery, quietlyintheshadows, Haaienhapje, Meaningless Name, CookieTower, Rui. RuiChan, sweetness4theheart, Lovina Hates You, oOMidnightStarOo, Lodella, f-anon, FalalalaLa, Lucicelo, Clozzie, NekOtaku, aiko8bit, xXIceXxShatteredXx, james hot hot, alguien22792, Night13, XxCapturetheLightxX, SisterFriend, natcat5, cheezeruleszolp, misher, Sasha, Readers-Section_** annnnnd**_ APH-Indonesia_**!**

**Thank you for the reviews! Thank you for the love~! And thank you for being FREAKING AWESOME! ^_^**

**Seriously, I don't know how long this story will be...but I hope it'll last some time~!**

**Perty please review!**

**Love City Girl**

**x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x**

**P.S.- CHAPTERS! Y R U SO LONG? 0.o**


	10. How Not To Negotiate With People

**'Allo~! So this took me freaking forever to write. Because it was hard dammit!**

**Then I felt really bad for being mean to Antonio, so I wrote '**Jealous Romano and Mama Spain and Turtles! Oh My!**' in order to make up for it~! Check it out and forgive me for the SHAMELESS, SHAMELESS PLUG~!**

**But yeah, this revenge thing is heating up~! ^_^ Also, I fear that there may be a lack of humour in this one. IDK...**

**ENJOY!**

* * *

><p><span>Chapter 10 - How Not To Negotiate With People<span>

Ludwig felt as if he finally understood what people meant when they say: 'it is a truth universally acknowledge that a German man in possession of _two _hysterical Italians must be in want of a suicide hotline'. The German man rubbed his temples as he tried to make sense of what the aforementioned hysterical Italians were arguing about.

"You're going to do _what_? Oh, Lovino! That's so mean!"

"No, it's not mean enough! That damn bastard hit me Feli, so now I'm going to hit him back! Where it hurts!"

"Ah! Ludwig~! Tell him that he can't do that!"

"Feliciano, don't order me arou—"

"Yeah, you potato-munching-freak! I dare you to tell me not to do it!"

"Hey! I told you not to call me tha—"

"Lovi~! That's not very nice! And he has a right to tell you off! It's his brother~! You can't do that to his brother!"

"Well duh, I know that. That's why Matthew will be the one to do it. Stupid."

"Ludwig~! Tell Lovino that he can't call me stupid!"

"Learn to stand up for yoursel—"

"I can call you whatever I damn feel like calling you! And that potato-bastard can stay the hell out of this!"

"But you're planning to hurt his brother!"

"He deserves it!"

"Ludwig~!"

The German sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose. His day really hasn't gotten off to a great start. It did at first, when he woke up with Feliciano's arms wrapped around him, followed by a lovely breakfast made by said Italian and then the shower they had shared. But then the knock on the door came and, stupidly, Ludwig decided to open it.

After that, Ludwig subjected himself to a ten minute explanation of what Lovino had in store for the Trio next, followed by a twenty minute argument between the two Italians. The German only close his eyes and count to ten when he realised that, for the entire thirty minutes, they had stood in the doorway of Ludwig's flat, free to be stared at by Ludwig's neighbours.

The tall blond wondered if there was any hope of them not blackmailing him and decided to just worry about such things happening when they actually happened.

"Stop whining to him! He never does anything to help you! The potato-fucker just stands there, muttering about how useless Italians are!" Lovino snapped at his brother, effectively breaking Feliciano's heart.

The younger Italian brother turned to Ludwig, his eyes bright with hurt and fear.

"Eh, Ludwig...y-you don't really think I'm useless, do you? Do you hate me? Ah! You really do hate me, don't you?" Feliciano cried, his bottom lip trembling with such depressing thoughts. Ludwig just counted to ten again and sighed.

"No Feliciano, I don't hate you," he murmured, placing a hand on his boyfriend's shoulder only to have it knocked off by his boyfriend's older, and more hormonal, brother.

"Don't touch him! You're lulling him into a false sense of security, you sick potato-eating bastard!" Lovino spat, pointing a dramatic and accusing finger in Ludwig's face. The German just sighed and flicked the finger away.

"It's rude to point," he stated, looking bored with Lovino's very presence. The Italian scoffed and narrowed his eyes at him.

"It's also rude to molest someone's brother in front of them," he snapped back, turning his nose up and placing his hands on his hips.

"Eh? Molest? Ludwig was just comforting me, Lovi~! He always does that and sometimes he even hugs me too~! Would you like a hug Lovi~?" Feliciano asked lightly, cocking his head to the side. Ludwig sighed, knowing what was about to come. He closed his eyes and waited for the inevitable scolding that he would receive.

"Hugging? He hugs you? And you let him? Are you stupid? No, wait don't answer that! You'll only end up proving my point!" Lovino, snapped back. Feliciano frowned.

"That's not nice Lovino. And of course I let Ludwig hug me...sometimes we even go further than a hug and he—" Feliciano said, his eyes bright with happy memories and good times. Lovino spluttered and clapped his hands to his ears, shaking his head furiously.

"Don't even go there! Don't you know what diseases this _Kraut_ could have?" Lovino demanded, making Feliciano gasp.

"Lovino! Don't call him that! That's so mean! Ludwig, tell him he can't call you that!" he stated, turning to face his boyfriend. However, Ludwig had zoned out of their argument, feeling very bored with hearing the same things being said over and over by each brother. Hearing his name though, made the German perk up and gaze at them blankly.

"...did you want something?" he asked calmly, making Lovino cackle in Feliciano's face.

"This is the guy you have as a boyfriend? That's pathetic, Feli!" he sneered, his eyes glittering with dark mirth.

"Yeah, well...at least I have one," Feliciano shot back, feeling like it was the only thing he had over Lovino right now. The older Italian clenched his fists, gritted his teeth and snarled viciously at his brother.

"I did too, until he turned into a bastard!"

"Antonio was nice! You loved him!"

"I did not!"

"You did! You told me!"

"I didn't!"

"You did!"

"Didn't!"

"Did!"

"Did fucking not!"

"Did too~!"

"Did not!"

"Too~!"

"Not!"

"_Shut up_!" Ludwig commanded. Their voices had reached a pitch that would give even a deaf dog a headache. Feliciano jumped at the German's loud and harsh command and jumped to hide behind his brother. Only, Ludwig had frightened Lovino too, leading him to then shrink behind Feliciano, quivering with fear slightly. However upon realising that the damn bastard had scared Feliciano, Lovino puffed up his chest and marched straight up to the fuming blond.

"Don't you dare scare my brother like that! You damn bastard! I should castrate you with your own damn potatoes for this!" he hissed, trying hard to not get intimidated by Ludwig's dark glare again.

The German just nudged him out of the way and ducked down to Feliciano's level. The Italian quivered slightly, his fear of Ludwig shouting again quickly evaporating when Ludwig cupped his face and stroked his cheeks gently. Understanding that this was Ludwig's silent way of apologising, Feliciano beamed brightly and threw his arms around the German's neck, nuzzling into it slightly.

"It's okay~! You didn't mean to scare me, so you're forgiven~!" he said, kissing Ludwig's nose sweetly. Therein leading Ludwig to turn a vibrant shade of red, which burned even brighter when he remembered that they had an audience. Glaring at the spectators that were lingering in the hallways, hoping for another argument, Ludwig reluctantly pulled away from Feliciano and frowned.

"Leave. Now," he demanded, feeling proud when their spectators jumped at his deep, commanding voice and immediately followed his order. Ludwig nodded to himself and turned back to the Italians. He raised an eyebrow when he realised that Lovino was five inches away from his face, eyes narrowed with hate and lips curled back into a snarl.

"Stop. Touching. Feliciano," the Italian gritted out. Ludwig held up his hands and glanced away with a bored sigh.

"I don't think that you have any business in telling me what to do and what not to do in my relationship with my boyfriend," the German replied calmly. Feliciano beamed brightly, rocking to and fro on his heels in delight.

"You filthy perverted bastard. You definitely take after your dumbass brother," Lovino spat out hoping to gain some reaction out of the German. Unfortunately for him, he failed as Ludwig just leant against a wall and rolled his eyes. Feliciano frowned slightly and pouted.

"It's okay Ludwig~! Lovino won't care if we touch each other! He's just jealous because he doesn't have a boyfriend anymore~!" he said, trying to be very reassuring, but failing miserably. Lovino just growled darkly and chose to ignore Feliciano's last comment.

"To hell I will! If that bastard touches you again, I want you to chop off his fucking dick!" he snapped, throwing Ludwig a filthy glare. The German just sighed and rubbed his temples wearily. He knew he should have bought headache tablets yesterday when he realised that he had run out.

"But if I cut it off, then how can we—" Feliciano started, but Lovino swiftly cut him off.

"YOU DON'T!" he cried, slapping his hands across his ears and wishing a million deaths upon the tall blond.

Feliciano giggled at his brother's embarrassment and crept up to him. "Okay, I won't talk about it~! But we do need to talk about you!" he stated seriously.

Lovino rolled his eyes. "What's there to talk about? The bastard hurt me, so now I'm gonna hurt him. Same with Arthur and Matthew. Those three fuckers need to pay and they will, got it?" he demanded, making Feliciano's eyebrows scrunch up with worry. Ludwig just sighed. He had to have an _Italian_ boyfriend, didn't he? An Italian boyfriend with a _brother_.

"Just don't kill my brother, alright?" Ludwig said, glaring slightly at the annoying Italian. "Because I will not be happy if he ends up dead." Ludwig was protective of his brother, but after finding out what Gilbert had done to his boyfriend, the taller blond reasoned that perhaps a little punishment might teach his brother something.

Lovino wilted under the glare slightly and nodded. "Che, whatever! If he ends up dead, don't come to me, 'cause I won't have anything to do with that damn bastard! It'll be Matthew's fault, although I wouldn't exactly blame the poor bastard. Your brother is a fucking retard when it comes to relationships and this is coming from someone who dated the Spanish equivalent of him!"

"Hey, don't be so mean~! Lovi, you shouldn't talk about him like that~! Antonio is really, really nice and lovely and handsome! Sure he claims that he fell in love with you at first sight and that may seem a little weird to everyone but him, but at least he waited until you liked him back unlike some people I know~! Plus, he's always letting you insult him and hurt him, even when he doesn't deserve it, so maybe you should just talk to him~!" Feliciano said, smiling softly as he rocked back and forth on his heels.

Lovino blinked and then smacked him upside the head. _Stupid Feli_, he thought, _Antonio fell in lov_e _with_ you _at first sight. Not me._

"Who the hell gave you permission to act so maturely? I'm the oldest, so I'm the one to give advice, bastard! And no, I won't talk to Antonio! The bastard deserves the silent treatment for what he did!" he snapped back, making his brother frown.

"He doesn't deserve being hurt like this as well! I know he hit you Lovi, but that doesn't mean he deserves being treated like this, no one does~! It's not nice!" Feliciano exclaimed. His brother growled in annoyance.

"I know it's not nice! That's the point of this whole...fucking thing! I just need to do this Feli, I need to make that damn bastard pay for what he did," Lovino replied heatedly.

Feliciano frowned and cocked his head to the side, furrowing his brows slightly.

"I don't understand. He hit you, and that's mean, I know...but you've always hit him. Sometimes hard enough to make him bleed. He always forgives you for it, so there must be something else making you do this! Brother, tell me what he said~!" Feliciano pleaded, giving Lovino his biggest and best puppy-face.

However, Lovino had lived with Feliciano for sixteen years, therein leading him to develop the ability where he managed to resist the cute puppy-face of his brother. The only other person who was immune to this expression was Ludwig.

"It was nothing important! We just argued; we always do! And the tomato-bastard is an idiot, everyone knows that! It's not my fault he can never get angry with me," Lovino huffed, folding his arms and looking away.

"Lovino Vargas!" Well fuck. Feliciano used his full name. Now shit really was gonna go down. "Listen to me!" Feliciano scolded, his hands on his hips and his voice reminding him of Antonio's mother whenever she scolded the boy for putting his elbows on the table.

Lovino cringed at the thought slightly.

"I don't understand why you can't just _listen_ to people! Why won't you tell me what he said! I'm your brother, you're supposed to let me in on these sorts of things...or don't you trust me?" Feliciano asked, feeling hurt and angry inside.

Lovino bit his lip as his mind became flooded with guilt.

"I do trust you dammit! It's just...what he said is private. A-And I know that if I did tell you what that bastard said, you would just upset yourself!" he retorted, crossing his arms with a glare. Feliciano cocked his head.

"Upset myself? Why, did he speak about me?" he asked lightly, causing Ludwig to perk up from his position against the wall. Lovino cursed under his breath and sighed. Well, he fucked that one up.

"M-Maybe, but like I said, it isn't important! You don't need to hear what that fucker said!" he insisted, stomping his foot for emphasis. Feliciano flinched at the noise and nodded mutely.

"Ah. I still believe that you should talk things out though!" he replied, just as insistent as his brother. Lovino growled and rolled his eyes deliberately.

"Give it a rest dammit! I don't need to talk to that bastard. I don't want to talk to that bastard. Fuck it Feli, I don't think I can even stomach looking at his stupid face right now! Stop forcing me into doing things I don't want to do! I don't want to speak to him, so I won't speak to him!" Lovino spat back, feeling slightly uneasy at how close he had been to spilling the details on his argument with Antonio.

"B-But Lovi~! That's not fair to Antonio!" Feliciano cried back.

"Oh shut up Feliciano! You don't know anything!" Lovino hissed.

"I _do_ know that you're being _such_ a _coward_!" Feliciano snapped, his brown eyes were sparkling with upset tears, his lips trembling slightly. Feliciano felt hurt by his brother's lack of trust and Ludwig could see that this argument had gone on long enough. The German pulled Feliciano away from Lovino gently, murmuring soft whispers into the Italian boy's ear, as he led him into the bedroom.

"Stay here," Ludwig ordered to Lovino, his eyes as cold as ice.

Lovino just blinked at the harsh tone his brother had used with him and felt, for the second time in his life, speechless. Never before had Feliciano all out _snapped_ at him. They had had their fair share of arguments in the past, but nothing that warranted Feliciano _screaming_ at him. It unnerved Lovino to no end.

The Italian was just about to kick his broken brain into gear, when a mobile phone came flinging at his head and did the job for him.

"Ack! What the fuck?" he hissed, rubbing his new bruise gingerly. Ludwig glared at him from behind his bedroom door, effectively shutting the Italian up from any further complaints.

"It's a new phone for you. Don't bother trying to pay me back, because I know you won't. Just go back to your own room, for God's sake!" Ludwig stated, slamming the door behind him.

Hissing at the phone in his hand, Lovino shoved it into his pocket and marched out of the room. Just as he was leaving, a loud moan followed by a cry of pleasure echoed throughout the room, instantaneously freezing him on the spot.

"Ahhh~! Ludwig, n-not th-tha~t! L-Ludwig~!" came the unmistakable shriek of Feliciano. Lovino growled; that dirty German bastard was touching his _brother_ again.

The Italian snapped and turned heel, fully intent on rescuing the same brother that had just verbally bitten his head off, two minutes ago.

"Fucking potato-bastard! Couldn't wait 'til I left, huh? I'm gonna rip your fucking potato-balls off!" he spat through gritted teeth, determined on disrupting them and murdering a certain German bastard.

Regardless of whether his brother liked it or not.

X-x-X-x-X

_Knock, knock, knock._

"Alfred, you wanker! Open up! I know you're not 'playing video games' with Kiku, 'cause I just saw him! Alfred!" Arthur's loud and angry tones could be heard throughout the hallways and Alfred knew that sooner or later, people would start complaining to him again. The American found it rather funny as this was one of the rare times where Arthur actually didn't sound drunk.

Cracking open his door, his blue eyes focused on the annoyed expression on Arthur's face. "You called?" he drawled, smirking as Arthur's eyes sparked with annoyance.

"I want to talk to you," he stated, rolling his eyes and clenching his fists from frustration.

Alfred blinked. "Um, aren't you sorta talking to me now? Dude, are you _drunk_? Again?" he asked innocently, despite already knowing the answer. Arthur huffed and crossed his arms.

"No, I'm not. Now let me in, you retard," he said and kicked the door. Alfred whined and slammed the door in Arthur's face, his muffled voice just reaching Arthur's ears.

"_I'm so not letting you in now! You've basically abused me Arthur, and that's not very nice_!" Alfred called through the doorway. Arthur just sighed and rubbed his temples. Was it possible to hear someone's smirk? 'Cause that's the vibe Arthur was getting.

"I apologise for hurting your oh-so-sensitive feelings Alfred, but I want to talk to you about something. Top secret too," he said wryly, playing with Alfred's inane curiosity towards anything considered 'secret'.

As expected, the door creaked open and a pair of blue eyes peeked out. "Top secret, you say? How secret?" Alfred asked, narrowing his eyes slightly.

Arthur sighed. "So top secret, that not even my dad would be allowed to hear of it. And he's SAS," he replied. The door then slammed wide open and Arthur was yanked into the room, the door slammed shut behind him.

"Dude, why didn't you say it was _that_ secret? I totally wouldn't have slammed the door in your face. Although, you did deserve it for being so abusive to your bestie bud. Is it any wonder that you're destined to be alone forever, with nothing but twenty-seven cats for company? Dude, dude! You could be the new Heracles, except twice as crazy and half as hot!" Alfred babbled, jumping onto his bed in excitement.

Arthur just blinked and felt a headache approaching. He felt as if it had become the standard reaction of being within five feet of Alfred and for a time period of being there longer than five seconds.

"Alfred. You're a dick. I need your help," he said, his expression as deadpanned as his voice. Alfred just blinked and grinned.

"Awesome!" he grinned, giving the Brit a thumbs up. "Just remember that I'm way too young and pretty for jail, 'kay?"

Arthur snorted. "This coming from a guy who wanted to knock off my ex-boyfriend a few days ago?"

The American just blinked, before grinning again. "Dude, that was so last week! I can't afford to go to jail now!" he exclaimed, with Arthur rolling his eyes and sighing with fond exasperation.

"Oh? And what's different about this week that's made you change your mind from last week?" Arthur asked, quirking a brow, before perching on the end of Alfred's bed. Alfred smiled slightly, scratching at his hair nervously.

"Umm...well, you see...you know how cute Kiku is?" he asked, averting his eyes from the amused smile that he knows is on Arthur's face. Which it is.

"Yes, what of it?" Arthur prompted, clearly not at all fussed with admitting that Kiku was cute. 'Cause he is. Like, really cute.

"Well, he asked me if I wanted to go to Japan with him during Summer, 'cause we break up and everything and I thought 'hella yeah, why not' and don't get the wrong idea, he only asked me 'cause there's this new game that's coming out, but you can only get it in Japan and so we figured, 'hey, why not just go there' and I know what you're thinking, 'why can't you just order it online, it'll be cheaper', but you see the fact is that Kiku asked me whilst making this cute face, so I couldn't deny him! It would be like...killing a kitten, or something. Anyway, so Kiku asked me to come get this game with him at his home country, 'cause playing it over there will make the experience more fun, or something. It won't be that expensive either, 'cause we'll be living with Kiku's family, so everything will be free. So I can't go to prison 'cause then I won't be able to get this game with Kiku in Japan. Duh," Alfred rushed, his face growing pink slightly, mainly due to the lack of oxygen his body was getting.

Arthur blinked and then smiled. He had become rather fluent in 'Alfred-Speak' and knew that underneath Alfred's rambling and blustered blabbering, what he really meant was: _I'm going to Japan to meet Kiku's parents to see if I meet their expectations of a potential suitor for their son. I can't go to prison, 'cause that would sort of fuck things up for me and then they'll never let me see Kiku again, which would just suck 'cause Kiku is really, really cute~!_

Arthur couldn't help but smile; sometimes, Alfred really was too sweet for his own good. And the Yankee twat didn't even realise it.

"Fine, I'll buy that. So I won't make you go to jail, but what I do need you to do, is something very important. Do you understand?" Arthur said, choosing to ignore the childish scowl on Alfred's face.

"Dude, do I look like a retard to you?" the American asked. Arthur blinked. Alfred scowled. "Never mind..."

Smiling wryly, Arthur patted Alfred on the head. "It's okay, it's okay," he murmured, as if to comfort the American. Alfred scoffed, and flicked the hand away.

"You really shouldn't insult me dude, this is my room. I can kick you out whenever I fucking want to," he threatened seriously.

Arthur just chuckled. "Oh yeah? Then you won't be able to hear about my 'Top Secret' plan to humiliate those tossers. I'll have to go ask someone else, say Ivan?" he teased, watching Alfred scrunch up his eyebrows in disgust.

"Dude, there is no need for that! I wasn't really gonna kick you out!" he exclaimed, jumping lightly on the bed. Arthur sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose.

"For the love of God, use proper English! It's 'going to'! You're 'going to' kick me out!" he snapped back, causing Alfred to cock his head in confusion.

"I already said I wasn't gonna! And fuck 'proper English', no one uses it anymore!" he retorted. Arthur sighed, tired of the conversation already. He must have had this argument with Alfred seven times now. The American really just didn't get the message and Arthur wasn't going to waste his time explaining everything again.

Fucking Yankee bastard.

"Alfred. Shut up and listen. I need you to help us tamper with their showers," he explained slowly. Alfred just huffed and rolled his eyes.

"Dude, I am so not helping you put cameras up there! Pervert! I know you still '_loooooove_' him and everything, but that ain't an excuse to perv on the douche-bag! He cheated on you, remember?" he retorted, causing Arthur's face to bloom a beautiful pink.

"Y-You idiot! We're most certainly _not_ putting cameras in their showers! How dare you even suggest such a lewd thing!" Arthur demanded, scandalised at the thought. Alfred laughed and winked at him.

"Dude! I was totally kidding! God, I love winding you up! It's so much fun!" he cackled, ignoring the annoyed twitch in Arthur's eye.

"Retard. I don't think I want your help anymore!" Arthur scowled, moving to stand up, but only to have Alfred yank him down backwards.

"Oh no you don't~! You're totally gonna stay here and tell me why you want me to fuck up their showers. And this better be good, otherwise I'm telling everyone that you perv on people in the showers!" Alfred said, very seriously. Arthur glared up at him.

"You. Wouldn't. Dare," he hissed through gritted teeth. Alfred flipped out his phone from his pocket and held his finger over the number two teasingly.

"Try me dude! I have Kiku on speed-dial!" he declared with a smug smile. Arthur huffed and rolled his eyes.

"You are such a child. Get off of me!" he snapped, wriggling free out of Alfred's arms.

The American tucked his phone away and grinned. "You love it between my legs, admit it!" he goaded, causing Arthur to splutter once more in embarrassment.

"You cheeky sod! I don't know why I bother with you!" he muttered, glaring at the smirking American.

"It's 'cause you love me too much, you know it," Alfred explained, winking to the flushed Brit before him. Arthur scoffed and glared at him.

"Yes, that's exactly why I make myself suffer through your company; because I love you Alfred," he stated, rolling his eyes and falling back on the bed with a sigh. Alfred grinned and punched the air victoriously.

"And he admits it! Dude, just don't tell Kiku, 'cause I reckon he's the jealous type and I don't think he would want me going off and playing video games with other people," he said seriously. Arthur snorted and gazed up in amusement.

"Alfred, I would rather stab myself with my embroidery-needle until I bled to death, than play five minutes on one of your video games with you," Arthur retorted, smiling playfully. Alfred poked him and pouted.

"You're so fucking jealous, I can tell. Don't worry though, 'cause you'll always be my favourite Brit!" he exclaimed, falling next to Arthur on the bed with a grin.

"Stupid. I'm the only Brit you know," Arthur murmured back, flicking Alfred on the nose slightly. The American wrinkled it and went to bite Arthur's finger, causing the Brit to giggle and wriggle away from the sharp teeth.

Alfred chuckled and sat up. "God, this is just so fucking...fucking _gay_," he said, his eyes bright with mirth. Arthur then laughed out loud, clutching at his sides.

"I-Idiot! Y-You're so f-fucking stupid! We..._are_...gay!" he cried, between bursts of laughter. Alfred smiled softly, glad that his best friend had cheered up. Normally, he hated labels and he hated slurs even more, but he knew that Arthur was in need of a good laugh. If poking fun at his own sexuality meant that Arthur got a few good giggles in, then roll on the homo-train!

"Please,_ you're_ gay. I still happen to find women incredibly attractive. You just wish I was gay, 'cause you want me all to yourself," Alfred retorted playfully. Arthur snorted.

"Oh God, the very thought terrifies me. Kiku can fucking keep you, you wanker," he murmured affectionately, not insulted in the least and felt another rush of affection towards his best friend.

"What-the fuck-ever. So, you gonna tell me this plan or not?" the American asked, nudging Arthur's hips with his leg. The Brit shifted and then sat up, a wicked gleam in his eyes.

"Remember that one movie where the protagonists put dye in the antagonist's swimming pool, causing his whole body to turn blue?" Arthur asked. Alfred nodded, quirking a brow with interest. "Well, we're going to do something similar, but on a far smaller scale."

Alfred grinned mischievously. "Alright! I'm sold! What do you want me to do?"

Arthur beamed. "Good. Now, listen carefully. We need to find a way to make sure that only _three_ showers releases the dye, so we need to tamper with the pipes. But only temporarily, and we're only using enough dye to last five minutes so it doesn't mess with anything else we have planned. What do you think?" he asked. Alfred hummed and tilted his head slightly, before glancing up with victorious smirk.

"Dude, this is the _hero_ you're talking to! Leave it to me, I've got it covered!"

X-x-X-x-X

Because the Trio had to share a large bathroom, the first thing that Francis did was reserve showers.

He had written their names on certain shower cubicles and did the same thing with toilet stalls. No one ever went in the besides the respective Trio member. Gilbert had an eye for knowing when someone had been in his shower or his toilet and always caused hell when it happened. As such, no one ever went for fear of what would happen to them if they did.

It was six in the morning when Francis got up for his first shower. He always preferred quick showers, due to the fact that he hated how the hot water messed up his pores. Gilbert, however, loved long showers and missed the days of when he had baths to lounge in for hours on end. Antonio never really cared for how long he took in the shower, as long as he was clean afterwards.

Francis stretched and crawled out of bed quietly, hoping not to disturb his friends. He rubbed his eyes and fluffed up his hair, before reaching for a towel that lay on bedside table. The towel accidentally knocked over a picture of Arthur and when Francis went to pick it up, his heart felt another stab of pain so he let it fall down once more. He left his room silently and padded across the hallway to the large bathroom. The bathroom had ten toilet stalls and ten shower cubicles. There were seven to eight bedrooms that housed two to three people on Francis' floor. The French boy hated maths, but he knew that he should be glad that he managed to snag three toilets and showers for his friends and for himself.

He reached his shower and hung up his towel, slowly pulling off his silken-pink pajama bottoms and hanging them up underneath the towel. Stepping in, he turned the tap on and turned the heat up to medium. Francis reached for his conditioner and pumped the liquid into his hands, before pumping some more conditioner on top. It was scented with the smell of primroses; a present from Arthur that had come in a large box of luxury spa products. Francis could remember the boy stating how lovely the French boy's hair smelt and since then, Francis had always bought the same bottle whenever he ran out.

Francis closed his eyes, breathing in the comforting scents of primroses and scrubbed his hair from the roots to the tips, ensuring that every last strand of his blond hair received some TLC from his fingertips. He never noticed the pink trails of water streaming down his body as he stepped under the hot spray. He kept his eyes firmly shut as the water washed over his face and down his body.

He blindly reached for his body-wash and shower scrunchie that hung just underneath the shower. As he pumped the body-wash onto his scrunchie, Francis sighed sadly as his mind swayed over to thoughts revolving around one Arthur Kirkland.

It had been so obvious that Arthur was the one behind the pranks over the past few days. It had hurt a little that Arthur would much rather humiliate Francis rather than speak to him. It was childish and immature and so very like Arthur that it made Francis' heart ache with longing. He knew that if there really was no hope of getting back together with the British boy, then it would certainly take some time for him to get over the smaller blond.

Firmly clenching his eyes shut, Francis swept the scrunchie across his face and up to his hairline, before running it up and down his arms and body. His body-wash was raspberry and vanilla scented, but he could recall Arthur stating that it smelt more of icing sugar than anything else. Biting his lip, he wondered what other little details Arthur had noticed about him and whether the Brit still cherished knowing such things.

Sighing Francis tilted his head so that the stream of water hit his face dead on. So many things were going wrong for him at the moment. His love life was in ruins, his grades were all over the place and his fashion show...his once-in-a-lifetime shot at breaking into the fashion business was on edge. His boss was furious with him and Francis desperately needed to find at least ten models before his next show.

His show was in...one month? Francis' eyes snapped open with shock and he bit his lip as he realised just how little amount of time he had. Where was he going to find ten more models in time? Would he have to advertise it? Place up posters asking for volunteers? He didn't have that kind of money! His mother and father could only support him for so long and Francis didn't have a paying job. His fashion shows were based on an apprenticeship scheme where, until he passed it, he wouldn't be getting any money in return.

Sighing, he turned the shower off and shook himself before reaching for his towel. As he pulled the towel in with him, he froze staring at his arms in disbelief. His arms were completely...bare. Normally, they were covered in fine blond hairs, but Francis couldn't see any of them. On either arm. Glancing down at his body, Francis dropped the towel in disbelief and gaped in shock.

His chest was bare, now lacking the soft blond hair that coated it nicely. His treasure-trail and everything beyond it was missing and gazing down at the floor, Francis choked as he saw all of his blond hair clumping together as they slowly went down the drain. With another choke of horror, Francis noticed that the water wasn't colourless and clear...but pink.

Swallowing hard, Francis tugged a piece of blond hair down to his line of vision and almost sobbed at what he saw. His hair was pink. There were still the odd strands of streaky blond, but after pulling more hair down so he could see it, Francis knew that his hair was pink all over. Biting his lip, Francis peeked out from behind his curtain to make sure that no one else was around before grabbing his towel and legging it out of the room.

In his desperation, he left his pajama-bottoms behind, resorting to tying the towel around his waist as he ran back to his room.

Luckily, no one else was around as he sprinted back to his apartment, slipping into it and slamming the door behind him. Spying the empty beds of Gilbert and Antonio, he figured that they had gone for their own showers. Without thinking about what could be happening to his friends, Francis went straight to the mirror on the wardrobe and dropped is towel.

He blinked a couple of times, taking in his appearance and then started to scream.

His friends never heard him as they were too busy taking their own showers. They had woken up five minutes after Francis left, the sound of the door closing waking up Gilbert who threw a pillow at Antonio to wake the other boy up as well.

Taking their towels and shower-supplied, they trudged down to the bathroom and headed straight to their own showers. Gilbert's stall was to the left of Francis' and Antonio's to the right. Stripping off his boxers and t-shirt, Gilbert entered his shower and turned the heat straight up. He loved long hot showers and could spend hours just relaxing in one. Flipping open the lid of his tropical-scented two-in-one body-wash, Gilbert pumped the orange mixture onto his hands and started to scrub it in to his hair. His mind wandered off to the other night, where he saw Matthew grinding up against Lars.

He had never experienced such a feeling of hurt before, but seeing the Canadian dancing happily with another boy brought that feeling to the surface along with a harsh dose of reality. Matthew was capable of having other friends, Gilbert knew that. But he always figured that Matthew was 'The One' and that they never needed anyone else to love in their lives.

Now here he was, dumped with his ex-boyfriend canoodling up to some Dutch bastard whose eyes could rival those of Medusa.

Gilbert snarled and roughly rubbed the body-wash across his body and down his legs. Strong scents of pineapple mixed with something else made his nose wrinkle in confusion. Gilbert glanced down and frowned when he saw that the mixture had lathered up to a bright orange. He turned the spray of the hot shower up a notch and stood directly underneath it. Gilbert roughly scrubbed himself clean but felt a jolt of panic hit him when he realised that the orange wasn't going away.

Pulling a strand of what used to be pure white hair, Gilbert experienced a heart-attack. Like Francis who had pink hair, Gilbert found his pure-white strands were now a fluorescent orange colour; it was bright, sharp and tacky and made his stomach turn violently.

"Motherfucker," Gilbert stated, eyes widening as he jumped out of the shower and grabbed his towel. Roughly drying himself off, Gilbert cursed once more when he realised that the orange stuff wasn't coming off. Pulling his towel away, he saw large stains of orange coating it in sporadic places.

Glancing further down, Gilbert moaned as he noticed that his treasure-trail had also turned fluorescent orange. Biting his lip and glancing around to ensure that no one else was around, he cocooned himself in his towel and escaped to the safe haven of his apartment. He crept out into the hallway, spying for any early morning wanderers and sprinted into his room, slamming the door shut behind him.

"Oh..._cher_, what have they done to you?" came a heart-broken voice from behind. Spinning in place, Gilbert took one look at his friend's appearance before slapping a hand across his eyes.

"Put some fucking clothes on!" he snapped heatedly. He had seen Francis naked before; heck, they had all seen each other naked before, but it was never something he ever got used to. Seeing Francis' naked body was definitely something that he didn't want to get used to. Francis' body...which had been hairless? And was his hair _pink_? Hesitantly, Gilbert lifted his hand up from his eyes and stared at the French boy before him.

Francis looked miserable, with his arms wrapped around his hairless chest and his naked body on show. His naked body which was absolutely devoid of any hair. The only hair that remained was the pink mess on top of his head and his eyelashes that were blinking mournfully. Gilbert bit his lip, but couldn't help the slight snort that escaped him; he figured that he had gotten off lightly when compared to the state that Francis was in.

"_Mein Gott_! Y-You look...like a h-hairless cat! A...h-hairless cat that's had candy-floss shoved onto its head!" he forced out his words between snorts of laughter. He forced himself to stop when he saw Francis' face crumple into depression. His eyes leaked tears and Gilbert instantly felt like a bastard. He knew how much Francis' looks meant to him and to laugh at the French boy now was just too cruel for even his standards.

Francis sniffed as Gilbert willingly drew him into a hug, despite the fact that the only thing separating their naked bodies was Gilbert's flimsy towel that hung around his waist. The French boy buried his face into Gilbert's shoulder and wiped his tears on the boy's skin.

"Oh Franny...we'll get them back, don't worry. They'll pay for turning you into a candy-floss stick," Gilbert murmured, stroking Francis' back softly. He had never done 'comfort' before. The only people that he had ever 'comforted' were Antonio and his brother when his dog had to get put down, five years ago.

"I-I look a-awful..." Francis whispered, digging his nails deep into Gilbert's back, causing the orange-haired albino to hiss slightly. "E-Even my eyebrows are g-gone!"

"Nah, you do not. You're Francis-fucking-Bonnefoy! You can make this look sexy! Shit, you can make anything look sexy, alright? And if anyone gives you any crap, just send them my direction, okay? Or Toni's, 'cause everyone and their Grandma knows how bat-shit crazy _that_ boy can get. And the eyebrows? Fuck, just draw those bitches back on. I'll even steal some eyeliner from Eliza, alright?" Gilbert stated, causing Francis to giggle slightly.

Then the Frenchman paused and pulled away, his eyes widening slightly. "Oh no...what about Antonio!" he gasped, his blue eyes filled with horror of what nasty pranks Lovino could have cooked up for the Trio's resident sweetheart.

Gilbert just swore and felt a headache coming on.

He was getting too old for this crap.

Meanwhile, Antonio had been enjoying his cool shower immensely. As soon as he had stepped into it, he had turned the heat down and placed on a cooling, gel-mask for his eyes. It kept them bright and reduced any signs of puffiness. He once recalled Lovino stating that there were two things that were attractive about him; his smile and his eyes. The Italian had been pretty drunk when he had said it and Antonio was sure that there were more attractive things about him, but he couldn't help but feel flattered by Lovino's honesty.

As such, he religiously brushed and flossed his teeth three times a day and wore gelled eye-masks every time he showered. He felt that if he paid more attention to the parts that Lovino liked about him, then maybe the Italian would like him more as a whole. However, Antonio knew that there was probably nothing about him that attracted Lovino now.

Pressing the chilled eye-mask into his eyes gently, Antonio sighed and wondered why he was still doing this. Lovino clearly hated him and wanted nothing more to do with him, unless it involved a horrid prank that humiliated and hurt the Spaniard greatly.

Turning the shower on, Antonio reached blindly for his shampoo and pumped it into his hands. He never saw the water coming out red and he never saw his shampoo come out green. Rubbing and lathering his shampoo into his hair, he hummed under his breath and began to relax under the cooling water. Red rivulets ran down his body, slowly staining the skin red. His shampoo frothed up in his hair, the bright green mixing with the red to create a murky green colour.

As Antonio's mind wandered over to thoughts of Lovino and being on the bench for the next football match, the shower's water slowly began to run clear again, washing off the residues left behind from the dyes. After standing under the spray for a few moments, Antonio stretched out and turned it off. He shook his head, to rid himself of any water that still clung to his hair and peeled off his eye-mask.

Yawning, Antonio reached for his towel, but paused when he saw that his arms had streaky red marks all over them. He quirked a brow and figured that lack of sleep had tilted his perception on things. Swearing to go to bed early that night, Antonio wrapped his towel around his waist and stepped out the cubicle. He saw that both Francis and Gilbert had left their showers. Frowning, he spotted tinges of pink and orange on the tiles of their respective shower cubicles.

Shrugging it off, Antonio wondered why his friends had left behind their pajamas and collected them along with his own boxers. He furrowed his brows when he realised that the rest of his body was streaked with red. Wrinkling his nose, he casually walked out of the bathroom, pausing only to glance into one of the mirrors that hung above the sinks.

Antonio studied his reflection in the mirror and blinked, cocking his head to the side. He uttered a noise of confusion and wonderment, before sighing and leaving the large bathroom altogether. He crossed the hallway and entered his apartment with another yawn.

He dropped the things he had been carrying as soon as he entered his room, leaving them on the floor next to the wardrobe. He turned to face his two friends and but froze when he took in their appearances, his eyes widening with slight amusement at the sight. His two friends glanced up at his entrance and gasped. Gilbert was perched at the end of his bed, dressed in a loose pair of jeans, whilst Francis had been getting dressed in front of his mirror. Antonio blinked at the differences in his friends and vowed that he would go to bed two hours early that night.

"_Mon Dieu_! What did they do to you?" he demanded, his eyes watering at the sight.

The Spaniard looked down and glanced up again. "Don't know...I look like a tomato though, don't I?" he declared, grinning brightly.

Gilbert's eye twitched. It was true though, what with Antonio's murky green hair and the fact that his body was now streaked with bright red blocks of colour, he did resemble the red fruit quite well. The albino snorted as he eyed the outline left behind by the eye-mask. The Spaniard looked utterly ridiculous.

"Oh Toni...this is so fucking stupid," Gilbert muttered, collapsing on his bed with a moan.

"I wonder if I taste like a tomato," Antonio mused, much to the delight of Francis who perked up immediately. The French boy grinned and sauntered up to the oblivious Spaniard. He placed his hands on Antonio's red shoulders and buried his face into the red neck. Then he began to nibble on Antonio's pulse point, making the Spaniard squirm and giggle.

"St-stop! Ah~! Fr-Francis, that tickles! Ahahaha~!" the Spaniard giggled, wriggling in Francis' arms. Gilbert's eye twitched as he watched Francis pretend to eat Antonio's neck.

The albino was tempted to sic Gilbird on Francis, but then he remembered that _someone_ had stolen him. Shaking his head, Gilbert decided to throw a book at the blond French boy instead. His aim was, as always, off target. Instead of hitting Francis in the arm, he managed to smack his friend in the face. The French boy instantly collapsed, moaning in pain as he clutched his head.

Antonio just blinked. "Eh? Francis?" he asked, peering behind him to see Francis curled up on the ground, holding his head with both hands and his face screwed up in pain. Gilbert just snorted.

"Forget about him Toni, he'll get over it in a moment," he said, running a hand through his florescent orange locks. Antonio blinked and grinned slowly, before joining Gilbert on the bed.

"So, does this make you no longer albino? Oh, what's it like being a ginger anyway?" Antonio asked, prodding and poking at Gilbert's hair. The orange-haired boy snarled and kicked him off the bed. "Owww~! You're being very mean to your friends today Gilbert!"

Gilbert just scowled. "You know for someone who's been turned into a tomato, you're taking it very well," he noted, peering at Antonio with narrowed eyes. Antonio just grinned back, his eyes sparkling slightly with mirth.

"Of course I'm taking it well! It's not like anyone is actually going to see me like this," he replied chirpily. Gilbert quirked a brow whilst hearing Francis groan slightly as he steadily sat up.

"Oh? So you're skipping then? Awesome! I'll skip with you!" Gilbert declared, his eyes gleaming with amusement. Francis, from his corner, quirked his brow in bemusement as he overheard what they were saying.

"No...it's because I'm dreaming obviously!" Antonio declared. Francis collapsed on the ground again in giggles.

Gilbert blinked before groaning in exasperation.

X-x-X-x-X

The reactions they gained from the 'makeovers' ranged from the oh-so-creepy to the not-very-nice.

In Arthur's opinion it was oh-so-bloody-brilliant. He wasn't ashamed to admit that he had been stalking them because he _had_ been stalking them. There really wasn't another word to describe what he was doing. Arthur considered the term 'following' them to be an insult to how much spy-work he had put into the whole situation.

Currently, the Brit had stalked them to the library, where he had witnessed some rather amusing teasing:

_'You know, you look like a girl now. Mind if I just check?'_

_'Ferme la bouche!'_

_'Eh, Francis? That won't work. They can't understand that shit. Fuck, I don't get what you just said!'_

_'I don't care. It makes me feel better.'_

Arthur had to admit, that with the lack of hair and the absurdly feminine drawn-on eyebrows, Francis did appear quite girly. More than usual anyway.

When he had stalked them in the hallways, they were taunted some more, but this time he was joined by Matthew and Lovino who wanted to witness the effects of their careful planning and hard-work:

_'Hey! Freak! Does the carpet match the drapes?'_

_'...fucking, unawesome, little...'_

_'Yeah, they do~!'_

_'Damn it Antonio! This is not a fucking dream! Stop telling people that!'_

Matthew couldn't help but find the whole ordeal hilarious. Until Lovino told him to 'fuck off back to his Dutch boy-toy' which then led to another fight between them. Arthur honestly felt like he was their damn mother sometimes.

After telling them off, Arthur found himself being abandoned by them both. As such, he decided to carry on with his stalking alone and proceeded to follow the Trio for the rest of the day. Even in the canteen they were harassed and by the dinner ladies to boot:

_'Oh my, that's a bit too much, don't you think dear?'_

_'Nah, I like it~! I think I taste like one too~! Would you like a bite~?'_

_'Damn it Toni! Quit telling eighty-year-old women to bite you! You're not fucking dreaming!'_

Arthur couldn't help but feel all the more amused with the way the Spaniard was dealing with his situation. Whatever though, if the dense Spanish bastard wanted to believe it to be a dream, then why piss on his parade? After all, it just provided him with all the more entertainment.

Feeling a vibration in his pocket, Arthur flipped out his phone and grimaced at text: _WTF? Why the hell is everyone biting that damn bastard? He's a fucking idiot for letting people do that! And with a damn smile! What the fuck is the purpose behind this fucking idea? BTW, this is my new number, you bastard. Lovino._

Rolling his eyes, Arthur tucked the phone away. Apparently someone forgot that this was all his idea. Stupid Italian brat. And why the hell was he getting so worked up about it? So what if people were biting Antonio? Lovino shouldn't be concerned about that; he was the one to break up with the idiot.

Arthur sighed and shook his head, walking away from his locker with a sigh. Honestly, if this is how Lovino was going to react to their revenge plans, then maybe they needed to rethink the whole thing. After all, it just wouldn't do to be in the middle of a revenge plan and suddenly be hit with a snowball of guilt and regret. In fact, it would downright destroy all of their—

"Ack!_ Casse-toi_! Let go of me!"

"C'mere, we only want a word with you. Stop fucking struggling!"

"_Fiche moi le paix_!"

"That pretty language of yours will only piss us off more! Shut the hell up!"

—plans? Arthur froze at the voices coming from the hallway around the corner. Sneaking up, the Brit peered around and gasped at what he saw.

His ex-boyfriend, with fluorescent pink hair and baby-smooth skin, was surrounded by three taller and older guys. One however, seemed to be looming dangerously close to Francis' body. The Brit snickered at the emotions flickering across Francis' face. Rage. Panic. Fear.

Arthur scoffed. Well, it would serve the froggy-fucker right. The Brit didn't condone violence in the hallway, and when he won the school council president elections next year, he was going to put an end to it all, but this was a frog who had cheated on him. As such, Arthur found himself completely ignoring his morals to help out and so he simply stood there and watched.

Arthur was half-tempted to take a picture of Francis getting beaten up, only to pause when the guy's hands rested dangerously on Francis' hips. The Brit froze slightly, tilting his head to get a better view. His ex-boyfriend had been pinned to the locker, with nothing but the guy's hands holding him in place. The guy seemed to be whispering something in Francis' ear, causing the boy to struggle violently, cursing in him French and English.

The guy just laughed at him.

Something deep down in Arthur's heart told him that this wasn't right. That the guy could be hurting Francis and that somehow, it was Arthur's duty to ensure that Francis didn't get hurt. Yet, Francis never took _that_ duty on board, so why should Arthur? Feeling a million of unwanted emotions taking over his mind, Arthur began to have a headache.

Yes, he loved Francis. Yes, Francis cheated on Arthur. Yes, Francis hurt Arthur. Yes, Arthur wanted to hurt Francis in return.

However, he really didn't want to see Francis getting hurt like this. Arthur knew that the French boy adored flirting with people, but he had never liked it when people started to get forceful with him in return. Francis was the kind of person who liked to give out pleasure and make people feel good. This, however...this was just shitty.

However, as he bit his lip, Arthur prevented himself from marching over there. He couldn't protect Francis anymore, in the same way that Francis had never protected him. So the Brit remained silent in his inner-conflict and watched as the guy attempted to pull Francis against him. Arthur sucked in a breath and watched, his heart thudding with trepidation. He knew that others perceived Francis to be just like that guy; a groping, molesting pervert who had no concern for other people.

They were wrong.

Francis was no rapist. He never hurt people with affection, or at least he tried not to. Francis was a natural touchy-feely kind of person and Arthur liked that about him. Francis adored pleasing people and making them feel better and before he had met Arthur, he used to adore giving pleasure to other people as well. He liked seeing people feeling joyful and content. He was a people-pleaser. He always stopped when someone told him so and he never took his 'games' with Antonio too far.

This dickhead who was currently groping Francis, seemed to be lacking that knowledge. He didn't stop when Francis said so and he seemed to very intent on taking his 'game' further than he had already done so. Francis could see this and so, he kneed the guy groping him. In the groin. Multiple times. Just in case.

Arthur refused to acknowledge the fact that he felt giddy inside, nor that he had felt relieved at the fact that Francis could take care of himself. Neither would he accept that fact that he had felt _jealous_ and _worried_ about other guys copping a feel of Francis, now that they were broken up. But Arthur did acknowledge that they needed to think about what they were doing and how far they were willing to go.

Humiliating them was all fine and dandy, but not when it lead to situations like _this_! As Francis flounced away, a slight flush on his face, Arthur flipped open his phone and started to type. He needed to know where the line was going to be drawn; if a line would be drawn.

Knowing Lovino, he probably wouldn't even know what a line was.

_Urgent: we need to talk. _Arthur hovered over the 'send' button, before pressing it firmly twice; one to Matthew and one to Lovino's new number.

He hated it when he had to be the sensible one. It just wasn't fun.

* * *

><p><strong>Okay~! So now we have some issues arising~!<strong>

**Like, yeah. I turned Antonio into a tomato. I felt so guilty about being so mean to him, so I decided to make his dream come true. Or at least, one of his dreams come true~! ^_^ So, many people said: NOT THE HAIR! I'LL EAT YOU IF YOU ERASE THEIR HAIR! or something to that extent and then I thought: OMG! I CANNOT RID THEM OF THEIR PRETTEH HAIR! so I didn't.**

**But I did turn Francis into hairless cat. With pink hair. For **_natcat5._** Mwah~!**

**Thank you to: **_WindMirrorAutumn, xXIceXxShatteredXx, Kiri Ame, Miggery, CookieTower, Dragonna, skribble-scrabble, misher, SisterFriend, Lucicelo, Concerned, fricken ray of sunshine, Chibi Russia-Kun, Sasha, alguien22792, cheezeruleszolp, koder, Silverfern500, KoreanCeal, FalalalaLa, flames04, Keri, XxCapturetheLightxX, Pamndora, Fujoshi Anonim, GillyflowerCalfuray, Firekat Archer, Lodella, Skadiyoko, ThE-faInTinG-faNGirl, M.T. Hart, NekOtaku, randommanatee, Caca, APH-Indonesia, afairyprincessinapunkrockband, Musingsage, xiaowei, Readers-Section, natcat5 _**annnd**_ shizukoyasu_**!**

**Ah, to **_Concerned_** the pairing USUK was only something I was going to think about, and I was never actually going to get Lovino to hook up with someone else. 'Cause that would be too mean to my Spanish sweetheart~! Also, I'm sorry if you believe that this story is becoming Matthew-centric, because it isn't. Each chapter will focus on one to two different characters each. Last chapter was Lars/Matthew, this chapter it was Lovino and his brother and Alfred/Arthur. Next chapter it will most likely be about Matthew again, so they all get a fair turn each~! ^_^**

**Review perty please~!**

**Love City Girl**

**x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x**

**P.S.- OmnomnomnomTOMATO-TONI!**


	11. How To Draw A Line

***head/desk, head/desk, head/desk, head/desk* As you can probably tell, this chapter annoys me. Greatly. I hate this chapter. I've looked at it and edited it so many times...I want to kill this chapter.**

**Instead, I finished it! ^_^ And posted it! And now I never, ever have to see it again! ^_^**

**And I'm sorry it took so long to write. But it's my summer holidays now~! ^_^  
><strong>

**ENJOY!**

* * *

><p><span>Chapter 11 - How To Draw A Line<span>

"Are you fucking kidding me?"

Arthur gave the Italian a deadpanned glare and informed him that he wasn't in fact, fucking kidding him.

Matthew just hid behind his bear, hoping that their fight wouldn't turn physical. Lovino and Arthur were glaring daggers at one another, and the Canadian would very much like it if they were to fight _away_ from him. After all, when their fights did turn physical, stuff would always be thrown and things would break and Matthew really didn't want to be caught up in the middle of everything again.

"B-But they deserve everything that's coming to them!" Lovino protested, completely and utterly baffled as to what the hell Arthur was on about.

"Now, now Lovino. It's only sensible that we _think_ about what we're doing," Arthur said slowly. "Sure, the last few ideas were fun and they were amusing. But I don't want to be all out cruel to them!" He never had wanted to be cruel to them; all Arthur ever wanted was to get his own back and to see Francis get punished.

Lovino just blinked and huffed slightly. "We weren't being cruel. We were teaching them a lesson," he muttered, glaring off to the side.

Arthur narrowed his eyes at him and scowled. "We are crossing the borders of 'just having fun' and walking straight into the land of being cruel and bitter. Yes, we should teach them a lesson, but no, I don't want to go so far that I end up regretting everything! Why can't you get that? I'm sick of repeating myself to you!"

Matthew sighed as Lovino reared himself up to snap back. He was sick of their fighting and bickering and just couldn't understand why they refused to act like normal friends acted. Then the Canadian remembered how Arthur and Alfred acted around one another.

"Liar! I bet you adore listening to the sound of your own fucking voice!"

"I do not, you absolute wanker!"

Humming, Matthew smirked. He guessed that being friends really did consist of bickering and insulting each other. But still, it was giving him a headache and he had run out of paracetamol yesterday.

"Please stop shouting. You're gaining weird looks," he asked, plucking at the fur on his bear. Arthur blinked and glanced around. The café they were in was completely deserted. He would have called Matthew out on being weird, but Arthur remembered that Matthew was the guy that made_ Ivan Braginsky_ cry with a single hockey puck to the head.

Lovino sighed and crossed his arms. "Whatever. One question first: why the hell are we in this café and not the other one?" he asked, gesturing to the building they were in. They hadn't gone to the 'The Café Around The Corner' for their talk, instead they had gone to a different place on the outskirts of town. The café was called 'Sadiq's Palace' and was owned by a Turkish guy who was often helped by his off-again-on-again Greek boyfriend and a quiet Egyptian boy who stayed in the kitchen.

Lovino hated it as soon as he walked in.

"Because a certain Korean-fanatic let it slip to a certain Japanese-boyfriend-of-Alfred's, that we had coerced him into our revenge scheme. Now Kiku is 'disappointed' in us and is 'hunting' us down. That, and he's pissed off 'cause we still haven't paid for those milkshakes that were apparently 'on the house' the other night," Arthur explained, complete with air-quotes and a tone filled with sarcasm.

"Seriously? Fuck...I don't think I like it here. That Turkish guy has been eyeing me up since we got here," Lovino muttered, subtly indicating with a nod towards the Turk behind the counter. Arthur snickered, gaining a very heated glare.

Matthew just cocked his head. "I don't like it here either. The prices are too high and I don't even know where we are," he said, frowning slightly. "How on earth are we supposed to get back home?" Arthur and Lovino blinked. Alfred had very generously given them a ride to the café they were in so they could escape Kiku's anger. However instead of waiting for them, Alfred decided to drive straight off again to go and calm Kiku's nerves down.

"We'll call for a cab obviously. Now back to the pervert," Lovino said, rolling his eyes and scoffing at the Canadian. "Would you get mad if we were to get kicked out due to me punching that bastard's face in?" he asked, glancing over to Arthur. The Brit shook his head and scowled.

"You really ought to learn how to control your temper," he said coolly, quirking a brow.

Lovino snorted. "That's rich coming from you!" he snapped back.

Arthur flipped him off with a smirk. "At least I have valid reasons for my temper," he replied silkily. Lovino spluttered, his eyes round with outrage.

"Valid reasons?" he asked. "I've seen you go bat-shit crazy over a split teabag! Tell me that's a valid reason, I dare you!"

Arthur snarled back. Lovino just didn't understand how frustrating it was to have all the perfect ingredients for a cup of tea, only to get a teabag and have it break on him. In the Brit's personal opinion, it was one of the most annoying things to occur when making tea and Lovino just didn't understand it at all.

The blond scowled. "Says the boy who loses it over paper-cuts!" he retorted icily.

"Fuck off! Anyone would tell you that paper-cuts hurt!"

"Only if they're as pathetically sensitive as you!"

"What did you just say?"

"Pathetically. Sensitive. Or do long words hurt your mind?"

"You bastard!"

They seethed and glared at each other. Matthew could almost hear the testosterone buzzing in the air. He sighed and shook his head with exasperation.

"Um...so, when are we going to stop this whole...revenge idea anyway?" he piped up, picking some dust off his bear, effectively cutting into the tense silence.

Lovino wrinkled his nose, glancing over at him. "When they give us our damn apology!"

"Then what? Do we forgive them and take them back? Do we laugh in their faces and reject them? Or do we carry on with these childish pranks and continue on as if nothing has happened?" Arthur asked, green eyes flashing with annoyance. Lovino scoffed and crossed his arms.

"Take them back? Why the hell would I take that bastard ba—"

"'Cause you love him!" Matthew snapped.

Lovino growled in frustration. "What is wrong with you two? Why do you _think_ so fucking much? Why do you put so much thought into this? Why can't you accept the fact that I...that I just _can't_ talk to him!"

"Well you won't be talking to him alone!" Matthew insisted. "We'll be there as well."

"That...will just make things worse. If, and that's a major fucking _if_, I talk to him...then I want to be alone with him. I don't want a fucking audience to hear what we have to say," Lovino insisted.

Matthew shook his head. "That's fine," he said. "But we still need to figure out what we're going to do after all of this. We won't be doing this forever and hopefully we won't be doing this for any longer than a few days. I'm fed up of playing with Lars' feelings. I'm tired of all this sneaking around and hurting people."

"They hurt us first," Lovino muttered. "And I don't love him," he added as an afterthought.

Arthur flicked him on the ear. "Don't be childish. You do love him."

"Do not," Lovino hissed back.

Arthur just shook his head, not willing to get caught up in another fight with the hot-tempered Italian.

Matthew sat up straighter and furrowed his brows thoughtfully. "What brought this on anyway? You seemed to be enjoying what we were doing before."

The Brit scratched his nose nervously and averted his eyes. "W-Well...it was the last idea actually. It got me thinking..."

"Jesus Christ. What the hell could have been so bad that it got you _thinking_?" Lovino mocked. Matthew smacked him on the shoulder, whilst Arthur threw him a glare.

"Go on Arthur," Matthew encouraged, his narrowed eyes firmly glaring at Lovino.

Arthur sighed. "Y-Yesterday...I saw Francis. He was all hairless and pink-haired...and he was being pinned to the lockers. By this guy and his two mates. That bloody wanker had been cornered by some...sicko, who had his hands all over Francis' body. I felt so...smug. So fucking smug. I should have felt like marching over there and punching the daylights out of that tosser. But I didn't. I stayed and watched, because I was so angry with Francis. I felt like he deserved what was coming to him. I just froze. I just watched. I actually scared myself, as I realised that I would've stayed like that until those gits did some real damage. And that would have been too late," he said, his voice quiet and his eyes dull.

Matthew hummed and reached to rub Arthur's shoulder comfortingly. "I guess it's time to decide how far we're willing to go and when to call it quits."

"Yes. We also need to talk to them. All of them," the Brit replied, looking pointedly at Lovino.

The Italian just sighed and glanced away. "Fine," he gritted out, scowling and squeezing his eyes shut. Truth be told, Lovino felt nothing but envy towards those who had bitten Antonio yesterday. Those dirty mouths, all over the Spaniard's neck and his arms and his ears...didn't the tomato-bastard even think about where those mouths had been first?

Lovino scoffed. Of course he wouldn't, the Spaniard was just too...dense.

Matthew sighed and shifted uncomfortably. "I-I guess we should also think about this revenge idea as a whole. It could change us; we could become bitter and spiteful. We could end up really hurting them, or getting into some serious trouble. I don't want to take it that far," he stated, his eyes dropping to his lap with a sigh. A mournful cheep was heard, before Gilbird popped out of Matthew's hair.

Gilbird had remembered seeing Gilbert's hair and almost had a heart-attack because of it. His master, whose hair had been such a lovely pure white, had been turned into an orange monstrosity. He failed to see how he was going to be able to nest in such a thing. His feathers would clash horribly and his senses would be overloaded with the strong scent of hair-dye. Gilbird just couldn't see himself nesting in his master's hair at all.

"Jesus fucking Christ! Doesn't that _thing_ have a life of it's own?" Lovino demanded, glaring at the yellow fluff-ball in Matthew's hair. The Canadian frowned and reached up to fluff Gilbird's feathers lightly.

"Leave him alone. You really ought to watch your mouth when near him. You should see some of the injuries he's given my brother," Matthew warned, his violet eyes flickering slightly. He remembered Alfred's complaints on how the bird had nearly taken off with his fingers because he had beaten up Gilbert and wondered if the bird would be partial to taking some of Lovino's fingers instead...

Lovino shuffled away quickly, memories of Matthew getting pissed off still haunted his mind. "Fucking Canadians and their stupid birds. Fucking Canadians and their stupider American brothers. How does that even fucking work?" Lovino demanded. "How the fuck are you Canadian, yet your dumbass brother is American?"

"_Obviously_, our parents split up when we were little. _Obviously_, my mum took me to Canada, my dad took Alfred to America. _Obviously_," Matthew dead-panned, causing Lovino to twitch slightly. It was a question that Matthew had been asked time and time again whenever people remembered who he was and the blond was beginning to get really annoyed with it as well.

"Yeah, that's pretty fucking obvious alright," Lovino stated sarcastically.

Matthew just threw him a glare. "And you actually wonder why people find it hard to talk to you?" he asked scornfully.

Lovino, feeling very uncomfortable with how close to the truth Matthew was getting, scowled and averted his eyes. "Fuck off," he muttered, shifting with discomfort.

The Canadian just shook his head. "You really need to find some new comebacks. Your recent ones are pretty poor," he said, wrinkling his nose.

Lovino's eye twitched. Then, feeling someone watching him, his eye twitched again. The Italian scowled and shifted in his seat, his eye twitching every so often as he tried to ignore the feeling of someone staring at him. Matthew dropped the glare he was giving the Italian and cocked his head in concern. Arthur just blinked at Lovino's non-stop wriggling and finally decided to say something about it.

"Lovino, what the hell is wrong with you ?" the Brit asked, cocking his head to the side with minor concern. Lovino just twitched again and bit his lip.

"I feel like I'm being..._watched_," he hissed, his eyes flaring up with annoyance. Matthew just furrowed his brows in confusion.

"Watched? But by who?" he asked, glancing around and seeing that there really was no one in the café apart from them. Lovino twitched again. Discreetly, he glanced over his shoulder. Groaning slightly, he slumped over with a sigh.

"A perverted Turkish bastard," he muttered miserably.

Arthur and Matthew blinked and subtly glanced over to the café's main counter. Behind it, the Turkish man named Sadiq smirked as he eyed the Italian who was now slouching down his seat in an effort to avoid Sadiq's line of vision. The Turkish man snorted. He knew that the little Italian was just playing hard to get; all the best ones played that game, like Heracles...and Kiku. Except Sadiq never actually quite made it with Kiku because some snotty American brat had gotten there before he did and claimed 'dibs'.

"Stop smirking like that. Every time you smirk like that, a cat somewhere falls down dead," a monotonous, dry voice commented. Sadiq rolled his eyes and glanced to his left. His off-again-on-again boyfriend was a Greek man named Heracles. He was classically beautiful with well sculptured muscles. However, he had a pair of heavy-lidded eyes that gave off the impression that he was seconds away from falling asleep. Also, the man was almost always covered in cats that hung from his body by their tiny claws.

"Shame it's never _your_ cats that fall down dead then," Sadiq retorted, crossing his arms and standing up straight. Heracles hissed at him and perched onto one of the stools at the counter. A couple of his cats left his body to curl up and fall asleep besides their master atop the surface of the counter. Sadiq resisted the urge of swatting them off onto the floor.

"As long as you're still alive, my cats will be too. After all, they're the ones who will cause your untimely death, leaving me to inherit this café, therein leaving me the honor of burning your pride and joy to the ground," Heracles said calmly, stroking a tiny tabby kitten that lay nestled in the crook of his arm.

Sadiq snorted and brushed the implied threat off. That wasn't to say that he wasn't slightly freaked out by the cats because he most definitely was.

"Whatever, like your cats are smart enough to plan my death. They'd have to be awake for shit like that and look at them," Sadiq stated. Heracles glanced around him. His cats were all napping soundly. The Greek man frowned slightly, feeling ever-so-slightly jealous of them. After all, they were asleep and he was stuck talking to an idiot.

"Leave my cats alone," Heracles growled, narrowing his eyes at the Turkish idiot. "And leave me alone especially."

"Gladly. I have much better fish to fry anyway," Sadiq stated, motioning with his chin to where Lovino was sat. "And he looks like one tasty fish."

Heracles wrinkled his nose. "You're going after him? I thought we were still together!" he said, rising a brow. Sadiq was sure that this was about as emotional Heracles could get when receiving scandalous news.

"No, no, no. We broke up," he replied smoothly. Heracles cocked his head to the side in thought.

"Oh? I thought we got back together?" he said.

"Nope. We're getting back together next Friday."

"Oh. Are you sure?"

"Course I'm sure. I even wrote it down on the calendar!"

Heracles glanced to the calendar on the wall. Sure enough, next Friday had '**Get Back Together**' written down on it, accompanied by a little frowny-face. The Greek man glanced to Sadiq, his face in perfect deadpan.

"You seem excited then," he stated, his eyes boring into Sadiq's. The Turkish man just grinned.

"Excited to be stuck with you? Hell no. Excited to be fucking you? Hell yes."

Heracles shifted uncomfortably, looking rather affronted with Sadiq's statement. "You don't get to fuck me all the time," he muttered, glancing off to stare at a kitten hanging off his shoulder. It was a cute little Scottish fold that he had found attacking Sadiq once. It still remained a firm favourite amongst his other cats.

Sadiq scoffed. "Well, duh. Most of the time you're asleep. I tried fucking you once whilst you were asleep. Felt like I was screwing a corpse. It's just too weird," he murmured, his gaze concentrated on the feisty Italian boy opposite.

Heracles gazed at him, absolutely nonplussed about this information. "You used my body whilst I was asleep?" he asked, quirking a brow.

Sadiq grinned. "Only once. You really shouldn't sleep naked," he stated with an uncaring shrug. Heracles huffed and picked up a black and white cat.

"Pervert," he stated, the cat hissing at Sadiq, claws out and teeth bared. The Turkish man paid no heed to the insult and shrugged it off.

"Yeah, yeah. Shut up and let me get back to business," he said, flicking the hissing kitten away from him.

Heracles sighed and followed Sadiq's gaze to the table of boys. "What makes you think he'll even sleep with you?" he asked, stroking the sleeping cat in his lap. Jealousy spiked through him once more. The cat was still sleeping; he was still talking to an idiot.

"'Cause he told me he wanted to. That feisty attitude is all just an act. He can't wait to be fucked by me, he even said so himself," Sadiq boasted, his lie as blatant as the emptiness of the café around them.

"Oh really?" Heracles asked, quirking a brow.

"Yep, really," Sadiq said, nodding. The Greek man sighed and sat up straighter.

"So if I walked over there and asked him discreetly if he wanted to sleep with you, he would say 'yes'?" Heracles asked. Sadiq deliberately avoided Heracles' eyes as he nodded quickly.

"Of course," he said, his eyes growing wide as Heracles stood up.

"Fine," the Greek God replied, and started to make his way over, before a strong hand wrapped around his arm and pulled him back.

"No wait, I lied! Don't go over there!" Sadiq demanded hurriedly, his eyes wide with panic.

Heracles hummed and perched on the stool once more, his face perfectly content. "So. I guess I just called your bluff then?" he said smugly.

"Oh shut up. Brat," Sadiq huffed, crossing his arms.

"No, I don't think I will," Heracles replied, cocking his head.

"Shut up."

"No."

"Shut the hell up!"

"No."

"Shut up!"

"...never."

"I said shut u—" Sadiq started, but like many other characters in this story, he never quite finished.

"Both of you fucking shut up! You're both too fucking loud and I can't stand it! And you retarded pervert! I would never sleep with you! Even if you were the last damn bastard on Earth, I still wouldn't sleep with you! If I had to choose between you and a fucking German, I would still never sleep with you! Get it through your thick, fucking skull! I would never ever sleep with you!"

...

...

The silence that ensure couldn't even be broken by a mouse.

Arthur quirked a brow at the softly panting Italian boy and hummed. "What if the choice was between him and a Spaniard? Would your answer remain the same?" he asked half amused, half deadpan and successfully breaking the silence. Matthew groaned, hating how the Brit couldn't go five minutes without goading the Italian.

Lovino hissed at him and crossed his arms. "I get it, okay? I still kinda, sorta, somewhat still _like_ that tomato bastard, for reasons unknown to my mind. Happy?"

Arthur grinned. "Immensely."

"That's a first," Lovino scoffed.

Arthur just shrugged, content with having a few smug moments of being right. Matthew just sighed, thankful that they hadn't started another fight. He reached up to play with Gilbird, only to pause when he felt the bird tense up suddenly.

Gilbird had popped out of Matthew's hair as soon as he noticed the familiar scent of danger. The scent was one of catnip and lactose-free milk. The bird fluffed himself up in fear as he realised that he was surrounded by cats. Lots and lots of sharp-clawed and razor-toothed cats.

Unfortunately for Gilbird, Heracles owned a slightly demented cat with the imaginative name of 'Kitty'. As Kitty was a cat, she had an innate instinct of wanting to tear apart and eat any bird that crossed her path. Gilbird had the innate instinct of running away at the first sign of danger.

Gilbird and Kitty sensed each others' presence at the same time, causing the cat to purr with delight and the bird to fluff up even more in fright. Their eyes were locked in a battle of the wills. Gilbird's beady eyes were narrowed, whereas Kitty's amber ones were widened.

Kitty was sat in Heracles' lap, her tail flicking to and fro as she kept her eye on Gilbird's every movement. Unfortunately for her, her owner had leapt off his stool to strangle the Turkish man behind the counter, causing her to crash down on the floor. The sudden movement startled Gilbird into taking off, flying away from Matthew's head quickly with a terrified chirp. Kitty eyed him and then—

"Gilbird?"

"Kitty!"

"Matthew?"

"Arthur!"

"_Sadiq_!"

"Heracles."

"_What_ the _fuck_?"

—the chase began.

Heracles stopped himself from chasing after the cat and proceeded to strangle the Turkish bastard who had been laughing at him. Matthew wilted under Arthur's stern glare as his gaze flickered to the panicking bird being chased by the demented cat.

Lovino just blinked, truly at lost, as to what the _fuck_ was happening.

The Italian just stared wide-eyed, at the chaos before him. Jesus Christ, it was like being at home but worse. Arthur just sighed and rubbed his temples wearily, glancing around the table.

He coughed to gain some attention amongst the chaos. Matthew and Lovino glanced at him briefly. "So, we're all in agreement then? We ask to meet them tomorrow to talk things out like _sensible_, _mature_ _adults_?" he asked, stressing out the last three words and reminding them as to why they were actually there in the first place.

Matthew nodded quickly, before dashing off to chase after the cat who was chasing after the bird who really, really wanted to be back home in master's hair. Orange or otherwise.

Lovino furrowed his brows and sighed. He hated talking. It was just...too emotional and sappy for his liking. "Sure. Whatever," he mumbled.

"Good," Arthur stated and flipped out his phone. He eyed the number that haunted his phone and he reluctantly sent a quick text.

_We need to talk._

Arthur knew that those four words could instantly send anyone who was in a relationship on edge. However, he figured that as he and Francis were already broken up, it really wouldn't matter either way.

Lovino sighed and glanced off to watch the entertainment of the day. Matthew appeared to be pissed off again, his soft voice hissing out words that made even Lovino blush; he never would have guessed that the Canadian _knew_ such words, let alone actually use them. Arthur hummed in amusement as the Canadian cursed and cussed out every living thing in the world. Starting with the cat and ending with his brother.

Then Arthur's phone buzzed on the table. Slowly, Arthur picked it up and opened the message. Lovino eyed him warily.

_Ah, I knew you would come back crawling to me~! Naturally _mon cher_, I would _love_ to talk to you. Just tell me where and when~! xxxxxxxx  
><em>

Arthur sighed at the flirty text and decided that now would be a good time to introduce his head to the desk.

Repeatedly.

* * *

><p><strong>*headdesk* Guh!  
><strong>

**Thank you to: **_CameronEmma, EdiblePandas, iNyoigi, anonymous, Amane Haruka, misher, Rin de Alvarez Araya, RomaneLuka, xGlass, Her-Bloody-Majesty. Shadowsamatheexorcist, Clozzie, Miggery, M, Bakura From School, Annzy, Sear, Mikadocon, Akai Hoshi Neko, Piyo13, xXIceXxShatteredXx, skribble-scrabble, Kiri Ame, Nezumi's Cheese, JazzyAli, Lodella, Lovina Hates You, Kaya Yurushi, Halloween Pumpkin, dontpokemepleez, Chibi Russia-Kun, Artsypink, demonlifehealer, , CookieTower, NekOtaku, Cynical Gummy Bear, cheezeruleszolp, Gretchen123, Silverfern500, APH-Indonesia, Bob, TABC, SisterFriend, WindMirrorAutumn, fricken ray of sunshine, Mitchiba14, natcat5, Dragonna, Musingsage, Readers-Section _**annnnnd**_ oOMidnightStarOo_**!  
><strong>

**Special thanks to**_ Lovina Hates You_**, for giving me inspiration about Morgan Freeman being God~! **

**Oh, and to **_Bob_**, if you were disappointed with the last chapter, then so be it. I can't please everyone, and if I did, then how would I know as to how to improve? And I don't believe that having Arthur, who feels so betrayed and humiliated by what Francis has done, would just swoop in and save him from getting hurt. But he does feel bad about it. Also, if you feel that those last pranks were cruel, then maybe you should stop reading now.**** Also, with Ludwig being OOC? I'm not being funny, but I think every character has had at least one OOC moment in this. I didn't promise that I would try to keep them IC, I never do. It's hard to do that with some characters and obviously Ludwig is a character I can't write very well. **

**ANYWAY! Thank you so much for giving the time to review! It's appreciated ever so much! ^_^**

**Love City Girl**

**x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x**


	12. How To Converse With Civility

**Fuck me. This chapter almost killed me.**

**And I was away for a week in Turkey. Yup. The land of Sadiq...it was rather hot and I managed to obtain quite the tan whilst there! I was also accosted by a couple of guys, wanting to know if I would buy their Viagra Tea.**

**Yeah, cause I'm in great need of some Viagra...honestly. -_-**

**Anyways, many apologies for keeping you waiting! ^_^ Plus, I am back at college! For my last year! Then off to University! YAY~! ^_^**

**Also, I'm actually scared to get reviews off this chapter...because it's not the nicest chapter, and the Revenge Trio aren't exactly portrayed as the nicest people here...umm...  
><strong>

**ENJOY!**

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><p><span>Chapter 12 - How To Converse With Civility<span>

Arthur was currently searching through his wardrobe for clothes to wear that night.

On his bed, Lovino watched him, mentally checking off what would and what wouldn't look good on the Brit. He stretched out, groaning as his felt the bones in his back pop. Matthew was too busy to come, stating that he had hockey practice and that he would see them later that night. Lovino had wanted to drag the boy away from practice for once, wanting to dress the Canadian up himself.

The Italian knew that Matthew had some nice clothes and a decent body to match. However, the Canadian just didn't use those two things to his advantage, which caused him to look frumpy and under-dressed sometimes. Lovino honestly found nothing more frustrating than someone who didn't know how to dress; except Germans and Spaniards and people in general.

"So, how are we going to pull this fucker off?" he asked, glancing up at Arthur and wondered why an eighteen year old boy had a unicorn plushie in his wardrobe. It wasn't the only plushie Lovino had noticed, but he did find it weird that Arthur had shoved it deep in the wardrobe and anyway from anyone else. Lovino scoffed; it would be a little too late if the Brit was trying to hide his unicorn-obsession, judging from his room anyway.

"I don't really know," Arthur said slowly, wrinkling his nose at a pair of jeans that most likely had frog cooties all over them. Throwing them to the side, Arthur dug deeper into his wardrobe. His wardrobe was bursting with clothes and Lovino just couldn't understand why the Brit just wouldn't throw stuff out. There were some tartan jeans, riddled with holes and chains, probably from Arthur's 'punk-phase', the time where he and Francis had gotten together. There were quite a few posh suits and Lovino almost spied a couple of shirts from Chanel as well. Lovino couldn't tell whether Arthur was being sentimental about keeping all of his clothes, or whether he was just a creepy old hoarder. Wrinkling his nose, the Italian decided that he really didn't want to know.

"Great. We're about to face the three biggest fuckers in the world and you don't have a plan?" Lovino demanded, scowling at the Brit who shoveled more clothes out of his way.

"Well, do you have one?" Arthur retorted, throwing a dirty look back at the Italian.

Lovino clicked his tongue and flipped the Brit off. "Thought you were supposed to be the brains of this retarded plan?" he drawled.

"Pfft. If this plan is so retarded, then what does that make you seeing as you're the one going along with it?" Arthur asked, snorting under his breath.

"It makes me fucking insane. I'm literally worrying about my own mental health just being in this room with you. Any room with you, in fact. But this room in particular," Lovino stated monotonously, waving his hand about the room.

"Oh? Why this room in particular?" Arthur said, his tone suggesting that he really wasn't all that interested in what Lovino had to say.

The Italian sat up frowning. "This room is fucking _covered_ in unicorn stickers and posters and stupid, freaky plushie-toys that keep staring at me. It's not normal. You're not normal. Do you even know what 'normal' means?" he asked, genuinely freaked out and worried for Arthur's sanity.

"I am aware of the definition of 'normal'. I wasn't aware that I had to abide by that definition," Arthur said, giving Lovino a dry look. He had been asked that question more times than Matthew getting asked 'who?'.

"I wish you would...I swear this room will give me nightmares tonight," Lovino muttered, curling into a ball on Arthur's bed. Arthur just tutted at him and shook his head.

"Now don't be silly. Unicorns don't give you nightmares," he said seriously. "Unless, of course, you piss them off. So, best to keep your mouth shut then, eh?"

Lovino's eye twitched. "You do realise that unicorns don't exist, right?" he said, rather fearful of the idea that insanity was contagious.

Arthur blinked. "They don't?" he said, his brows furrowed with confusion. "Are you stupid? Of course they exist. And they don't appreciate being spoken about like that, so shut your mouth!" he snapped and turned back to his wardrobe.

Lovino just inched his way away from Arthur more and more.

"Okay, you're fucking crazy," Lovino muttered, curling up into a ball again. Arthur just snorted.

"Yeah, yeah. Like I haven't heard that one before," he murmured and returned to his wardrobe to look for an outfit. Lovino watched him and hummed as Arthur pulled out outfit after outfit, only to wrinkle his nose at them and drop them on the floor. Lovino frowned.

"So...why are you trying so hard to primp yourself up? I mean, it's difficult enough to get you looking above average, so why try so hard to look sexy?" he asked, not understanding why Arthur threw him a dirty glare as he commented on the other boy's looks.

"I'm not doing this for myself. I doing this for—" Arthur began.

Lovino's face scrunched up, looking appalled at the Brit. "Not that French fucker?" he demanded, unimpressed with the very thought of the idea.

Arthur pulled a face. "No, don't think me so fickle that I would try and win him back. I'm doing this for Alfred. N-Not because I think of him like that! It's just that he promised to come with me, in case things go badly. He promised to be my back-up plan. That and I'm not going to pass up the chance to make Francis jealous. Even if it's with Alfred," Arthur explained, feeling quite proud and a little bit smug with himself.

"And Alfred agreed to this? What about his fucking boyfriend?" Lovino demanded, incredulous that a boy as whipped as Alfred would even pretend to go behind Kiku's back. He had seen how the American acted around Kiku and couldn't imagine the blond even thinking about going behind Kiku's back.

"Of course. I gave my word as a gentleman that nothing untoward would happen," Arthur stated, nodding his head for emphasis.

"That really isn't much to rely on. You're the worst fucking gentleman in the world. And I know gentlemen of the potato-kind!" Lovino snapped, dodging quickly as Arthur threw a jacket at him. A jacket with fairies sewn on the back. Lovino blinked and knew that Arthur had officially lost it ages ago.

"You know, I never really understood your hate towards Ludwig. His brother may be a pain in the arse, but Ludwig? He's the total opposite of him," Arthur said, tilting his head to the side as he regarded the Italian boy.

Lovino snorted and picked up Arthur's jacket, tracing the fairies with his finger. "Please. That's just a fucking cover. The _real_ Ludwig is a perverted bastard who ought to be locked up for corrupting little brothers," he hissed, his eyes narrowed with hate. Arthur quirked a brow.

"Humph. Have you ever considered that maybe Feliciano likes being...ah, 'corrupted' by him?" the Brit asked, ducking as Lovino threw his jacket back at him.

"Don't fucking say that! Feliciano is nothing but pure fucking innocence! That potato-fucker is taking advantage of him and I won't stand for it!" the Italian demanded, slamming a fist into Arthur's bed. The Brit chewed his lip, feeling a slight stab of jealousy hit his stomach.

After all, Lovino must really love his brother to be that protective of him. Arthur only ever _dreamed_ of something like that between his brothers and him.

"Well, what if your brother is happy with him?" Arthur asked. "Hypothetically, what if Ludwig is the only one that can make Feliciano _that_ happy?"

Lovino blinked. "You really haven't met my brother yet, have you? Kittens make my brother happy. Newborn babies make my brother happy. Beautiful ladies make my brother happy. Rainbows and sunshine make my brother happy. When pasta is 'buy one, get one free' he's fucking ecstatic!"

Arthur chuckled and smiled sadly. "Yes, but Ludwig is the only one that can make him _happiest_, right? I mean, he loves Ludwig and him alone, so he must be happiest with him," Arthur explained, watching as Lovino scoffed.

"Yeah right. You really don't know Feliciano. I mean, Ludwig can't really make him that happy. It's fucking Ludwig; he smells of fucking potatoes! And, and, and what if Feliciano is really in love with someone else, but he can't have them! What if he's just settling for second best because the person he really loves turned him down in favour for his...his..." Lovino trailed off, biting his lip as he realised how close he was to saying too much.

Arthur frowned and shook his head, clamping a hand on Lovino's mouth to prevent it from opening again. "That is the biggest load of bullshit I have ever heard. And I used to date Francis! How could you think so little of your brother to assume that he's just using Ludwig as a replacement? That's simply awful!" Arthur said glaring at the Italian and causing Lovino to flinch.

He sniffed and bit Arthur's hand, causing the Brit to yelp and snatch his hand back. The blond wondered if he needed to go to A&E or something...just to make sure that Lovino doesn't have rabies or anything.

"...you're right, dammit. I really shouldn't think like that. After all, it's Ludwig who's the real culprit here! He's the one taking advantage of Feliciano's broken heart!" Lovino said, the fire in his eyes lighting up once more. Arthur just rolled his eyes, knowing that there was simply no hope of arguing against Lovino on this.

"Whatever. Wanker...so, are you going to tell me who broke Feliciano's heart? I'm assuming we're no longer talking hypothetically, 'cause your speech was pretty passionate for something that's false," Arthur said. Lovino shifted uncomfortably and averted his eyes.

"It was no one important..." he murmured, his little curl drooping slightly. Arthur frowned and nodded, knowing that he'd prodded enough for the time being.

"Fair enough. But still, you ought to hold your brother in higher regards than you do know. I know he isn't so stupid as to allow himself to be used, nor is he so cruel to use someone else. Be nice," Arthur lectured, even going so far as to wag his finger in Lovino's face.

The Italian snorted and brushed Arthur's hand away. "Fuck that. You do realise that Feliciano is lucky that I even respect him as of now. That fucker isn't even on my side! He's supposed to be my brother and yet he's not even sympathizing with me! Cowardly bastard! Claims he's neutral...who the hell does he think he is? Switzerland? Stupid idiot!"

"Hey!" Arthur said, raising a brow. "What did I just say? You only have one brother; you should be nice to him! I have bloody three and none of them even have the word 'nice' in their vocabulary!"

Lovino smirked and rolled his eyes. "Whatever! You're lucky to have more than one brother. At least then you can always count on at least one of them to be one your side," Lovino said, tilting his head to the side. Arthur snorted softly.

"Yeah...lucky," he muttered, returning to his wardrobe. Lovino, sensing the Brit's mood, coughed awkwardly and sat up on the bed.

"So is Matthew coming here after his hockey practice, or are we going to meet up with him there?" he asked, changing the subject smoothly. Arthur shot him a small smile and cleared his throat. The Brit was thankful that Lovino was capable of reading the atmosphere. He was even more grateful that Lovino wasn't the kind to poke into matters and ask too many questions.

"Well, you're scared of Matthew enough and that's without seeing him on the ice-rink, so I told him to meet up with us here afterwards. Plus, he needs to shower and change beforehand anyway," Arthur explained, pulling out another outfit before wrinkling his nose and putting it back.

Lovino nodded and then stood up, giving the shirt that Arthur had just taken out a critical look. "Fair enough. But I will scream if he wears that red hoodie again!" he threatened, with a very serious look in his eye. Arthur nodded.

"Understood," he said, and held the outfit in front of him. "What do you think?"

The Italian hummed. "That shirt will look good for your eyes, but terrible for your skin. It's too bright and you'll look washed out. Try...try...this one instead," Lovino said and pulled out a v-necked, soft brown shirt that had baby-pink piping going up the sides and along the collar.

Arthur smiled and shook his head. "Thanks. Any other suggestions for anything else I should wear?" he teased lightly.

Lovino snorted. "Blue jeans. Simple enough," he said abruptly. Arthur blinked.

"You know I was kidding, right?" he asked seriously. Lovino just gave him a look that said: 'you-know-I-wasn't-right'. Arthur just sighed and, to avoid any more arguments, agreed easily to Lovino's suggestion.

As Arthur pulled out a number of blue jeans, Lovino mulled over another question in his mind. Glancing up, he tilted his head to the side and chewed his lip. "Hey Arthur, where did they say they were going to meet us again?"

Arthur shifted uncomfortably. "The Boombox."

"What? Why the hell would they pick such a public place? I thought we made it clear that we wanted to have a _private_ conversation," Lovino demanded, his eyes flashing with outrage.

Arthur nodded. "Yes, but then they argued that trust was a delicate matter between the six of us, therefore they decided that in case we had anymore tricks up our sleeves, at least they would be in a room full of witnesses in case those tricks were to be considered illegal."

"You mean they're scared of us?" Lovino asked, quirking a brow. Arthur nodded.

"That and they feel much safer due to the fact that it's Mathias' club. Apparently Gilbert and Mathias struck a deal up that we would be banned if we tried anything 'evil' again towards any of them," Arthur said, rolling his eyes as he did so.

Lovino blinked. "What a bunch of cowardly, fucking, stupid, cock-sucking, back-stabbing, low-life, mentally challenged—"

Arthur winced at the words and knew that in order to protect Matthew's innocent ears when he relayed the conversation to him, he'd have to censor Lovino's language by saying that Lovino said, 'I say! What a group of cheeky buggers!', or something. Imagining Lovino actually saying those words though, caused Arthur to shiver in disturbance.

There were some things that some people just shouldn't ever say.

X-x-X-x-X

That night, 'The Boombox' was thriving with life.

Berwald was actually at the door for once, although Arthur did spy a struggling Tino who had been pinned against the Swede's chest. When they got in, Arthur immediately spotted Emil who was halfheartedly tending to the bar, whilst tending to his puffin at the same time. His brother was nowhere to be seen, but the Brit sure that he could imagine where he is and _who_ he is doing right now.

Shivering again, Arthur shook the mental image out of his mind and shoved his hands deep in his pockets.

Lovino, who was wearing a deep-red shirt and black slacks, wrinkled his nose as he realised that he would have to pay for the bar that night. Besides him, Matthew, who was wearing skinny grey jeans and his red hoodie again, sighed at the loud music. Lovino had almost attempted to burn the Canadian's hoodie, but Gilbird had pecked his fingers to pieces before he could even touch it.

"I'm going to drown myself in shots," Lovino stated immediately, feeling his courage from earlier vanish and he melted into the crowds to reach the bar.

"I'm going to the bathroom," Matthew said, slipping away from them towards the stairs, feeling immensely ill and rather light-headed.

Arthur huffed and rolled his eyes, before turning to the fourth person in their little group. Alfred was wearing a plain white t-shirt and a black jacket, with matching jeans. The American had driven them there in his banged up car, telling them that if anything bad happened, then they were on their own and Alfred was driving the fuck away A.S.A.P.

Arthur wondered if that 'bad thing' just so happened to be Kiku finding out...

"Alright, so why am I here again?" Alfred asked, glancing around the club fearfully. "You know that if Kiku finds out that I came here, I would be royally fucked. And not the kinky, yummy kind either," he added, huffing a little. Arthur just rolled his eyes and smacked him upside the head. _Yep_, Arthur thought,_ it was Kiku finding out_.

"Wanker. You're here to support me as Official Best Friend. Remember?" the Brit said, glaring slightly. Alfred held his hands up in surrender and smirked.

"Sure. And it has nothing to do with the fact that you want to make Francis jealous. You know, despite the fact that you're trying to make up with him tonight. Dude, talk about mixed signals. You're kind of a bitch, you know?" Alfred mused, causing Arthur's eye to twitch.

"And you talk too much," he muttered, shifting uncomfortably as he watched the mass of writhing bodies on the dance-floor.

Alfred followed his gaze and smirked. "Wanna dance? You know, 'til those bastards finally show up?" he asked, tilting his head towards the dance-floor.

Arthur considered it for a moment and then shrugged. "Why not? Although I have to ask, would Kiku be alright with this?"

The American blinked. "Ummm...what he doesn't know can't hurt him?" he said, giving Arthur an unsure grin.

"Are you asking me or telling me?" the Brit drawled before shrugging. "Whatever. Let's dance and we'll keep our hands to ourselves, alright?"

"Awesome! Prepare to have the fuck danced out of you~!" Alfred declared, yanking Arthur along to the dance-floor.

"You utter retard! That doesn't even make sense!" Arthur cried, as his poor limb was abused by the rowdy Yankee bastard.

"Your face doesn't make sense!" Alfred retorted. Arthur just blinked and sighed, allowing himself to be pulled onto the dance-floor.

Squeezing past the writhing bodies, Alfred yanked Arthur towards him, sending the Brit flying into his chest. Laughing, the Yankee tosser wrapped his arms around Arthur's waist and started grinding softly. Arthur just sighed and shook his head.

"Awkward. _This_. So very fucking _awkward_," he hissed, trying to push Alfred away. What happened to keep their hands to themselves?

"C'mon, it's not like we haven't danced like this before," Alfred said, cocking his head to the side with a grin. Arthur winced.

"Yeah, back when...when we were...you know. Besides Kiku would have my head if he knew," Arthur stated, although he was no longer wriggling away from the smug bastard. However, he was looking away with a faint flush on his cheeks.

"Dude! You're totally saying that like I'm cheating on him! Which I would never, ever, ever do. 'Cause if I did, then his parents would never allow us to...um, play video games together. Seriously," Alfred finished lamely, giving Arthur a weak smile. The Brit just shook his head and brought his hands up to rest on Alfred's broad shoulders.

"One dance. Okay? Then we can stop and you can go off and clear your conscience as much as you want," Arthur said, grinning. Alfred chuckled and nodded.

"Totally. One dance. But what-the fuck-ever! I totally just cheered you up! What's that give me, like a million brownie points?" Alfred said his mood lighting up immediately. The American always felt like he was being torn between his best friend and his boyfriend. He hated to think that one day, he would actually have to make a choice. He just hoped that day wasn't _today_.

Arthur smiled softly and tucked his head into the crook of Alfred's neck, feeling the position to be very familiar to him. "Umm, Alfred? Are you...wearing cologne?" he asked, nuzzling his nose into Alfred's throat gently.

"Dude! That tickles! And yeah, Kiku bought it me. Fucking awesome, right?" Alfred declared, leaning away slightly. Arthur shrugged.

"You must really like him. You never wore the cologne that I...ah, never mind," Arthur said, shaking his head quickly to dispel any bad thoughts or memories to arise from the dead.

Alfred blinked and gave him a crooked grin. "I did. Actually, I wore it almost all the time. Except, we never actually got this close for you to smell it on me. You know, back when we were...like that. Whenever we _did_ dance like this, you always seemed distracted. I guess that's why you never really noticed that I did wear it. For you."

Arthur flushed and ducked his head, burying it in Alfred's chest desperately. "S-Stop saying such embarrassing things! T-Twat!"

Alfred chortled. "Oh Arthur, I do love you~!"

The Brit snorted and sighed. "Yeah, yeah. Same here. Wanker."

Grinning Alfred ducked down and kissed Arthur's ear. "Guess what the cologne is called~!" he whispered, feeling rather proud that he had managed to cheer the mopey Brit up. Arthur glanced up and quirked a brow.

"I don't know, what?" he asked, cocking his head.

"Upsexy," Alfred replied, waggling his eyebrows. Arthur scrunched up his face in confusion.

"What's upsexy?" he said, only to have Alfred laugh at him once more, his eyes sparkling with amusement.

"Nothing much, you?" he sniggered, leaving Arthur some time to just get what's happened. The Brit blinked and then flushed, punching Alfred in the arm hard. Alfred chuckled through the pain and winked.

"Twat," Arthur murmured affectionately, shaking his head.

"Hahahahaha~! You love it really, bro~!" the American declared, his eyes bright and his smile brighter.

Arthur laughed as Alfred crushed him into a hug. Feeling slightly breathless, the Brit wriggled out of it and smiled softly. "Thanks Alfred," he said, genuinely grateful for the boisterous American and his pro' cheering up skills.

"No problem dude," Alfred grinned, giving him the thumbs up. Arthur shook his head.

"Honestly, you really are one of a kin—" he started. But didn't finish. Like always.

"Woah! Can you hold onto that thought? Nature's calling and she ain't waiting around for no one!" Alfred interrupted, not waiting for Arthur's response, before turning around and sprinting off towards the toilets.

Arthur just shook his head as he was abandoned on the dance-floor. "One of a kind. Stupid bastard. Always has to ruin the nice moments, don't you?" he muttered fondly, crossing his arms and tilting his head to the side.

Sighing, he decided that whilst Alfred was busy, it would be best if he took advantage of the fact that the bar was now lacking a bartender. Apparently Emil's puffin decided that a club was the worst place in the world to nest. Thus the puffin ran away, Emil ran after it and the bar was no longer being tended to.

Arthur sauntered over to the bar, eyeing Lovino at the other end of it. Giving him a nod of acknowledgment, the Brit then proceeded to reach over and grab the nearest bottle of alcohol he could reach. Squinting in the dark, Arthur could make out the letters _G_ and _T_ and assumed it to be Gin and Tonic. He really didn't like it but beggars cannot be choosers and all that shit.

Reaching over to grab a small tumbler-glass, Arthur poured himself a healthy amount and tossed it back. As he swallowed, he felt like he was being watched. Glancing around, he saw Lovino giving up on shot-glasses and just drinking from the bottle, Alfred was still in the toilet and no one else was really paying attention to hi—oh. Ooh..._fuck_. Oh fuck _no_. Oh. Fuck. And no.

Three very familiar guys were staring at him. They weren't the three guys that Arthur had been expecting, otherwise he would have copied Lovino and downed the entire bottle before him for liquid-courage.

Arthur wondered if he would need some liquid-courage anyway. He recognised the three guys as the same guys who had been tormenting Francis a couple of days ago. Arthur remembered the way he had refused to confront them, remembered how smug he was that they were picking on Francis...

Fucking _tossers_.

He growled softly as they crowded around him. Luckily for him, he had managed to build up a resistance to intimidating figures, courtesy of his dickhead brothers.

"May I help you? Twats?" Arthur asked politely. The guy who had pinned Francis to the locker snorted and grinned at him.

"No need to be rude...we're only just wondering something," he replied coyly, his eyes glinting madly.

"Well, don't think too hard. You don't want to place too much pressure on that one lonely brain cell in your mind," Arthur drawled, quirking a brow in a very devilish way.

The guy's eye twitched. Arthur, for the life of him, couldn't remember what the guy's name was. After all, why would he wasted his time remembering some plebeian's name, when he could memorise something better? Like an embroidery pattern or the entire cast of My Little Pony?

"I wouldn't be going around insulting people if I were you," the plebeian hissed. Arthur just shrugged.

"Thank fuck you're not me then," Arthur muttered dryly.

The Plebeian (as Arthur would now refer to him as) clenched his fists and growled. He would have looked quite intimidating if it weren't for the fact that Arthur grew up around three older male siblings and therefore had plenty of experience with such people.

"Now listen! We only want to know where your fucking girlfriend is!" he spat, his filthy mouth stretched into a smirk. Arthur blinked, not getting what he meant at first, but the glint in The Plebeian's eyes explained it for him.

"I don't have a girlfriend," he replied icily, clenching his fists tightly. He had heard it all before when he first came out. At first it was hard to ignore the jibes and the teasing; now it was just second nature to him. That and Arthur was quite capable of knocking people out for saying the wrong thing.

"You know, the French one. Long hair, longer legs and tight looking ass with a matching mouth!"

Arthur flinched with anger and he narrowed his eyes in disgust at the guy's crude language. "I can assure you, Francis is no girl. His dick is bigger than the one on your head, so that must be saying something!" he spat. The boy brushed off his insults and scoffed.

"Yeah, I bet he'd like my dick. Bet he'd like it shoved into his tight, fucking as—"

Except he never finished. Because Arthur just knocked him out.

X-x-X-x-X

As Arthur took care of some nasty business, Lovino was taking a lesson in patience and why killing people should really be his last resort. Except in certain circumstances where killing said person is just _oh-so-necessary_.

Like this circumstance, in which Lovino found himself cornered by Sadiq, the Turkish bastard who had been eye-balling for the entirety of their last 'meeting'. Lovino had been innocently drinking out of a bottle of rich red wine whilst thinking about what to say when he saw Antonio. The Italian knew that a simple 'hey' just wouldn't cut it and that he had to come up with something before he encountered the Spaniard.

"Well, what's a pretty thing like you doing all alone at the bar?" a familiar voice cut straight through his thoughts and made Lovino's eye twitch. The Turkish accent was strong and could be heard over the music. Lovino prepared himself for the next shitty ten minutes of his life and grasped his drink tightly.

"Drinking, you bastard. What does it look like?" he hissed, turning to see Sadiq gazing down at him. Lovino shifted uncomfortably under the Turk's intense gaze, wondering what the hell he had done to warrant such attention.

"It looks like you're pretty...lonely. Would you like some company?" Sadiq said, his dark gaze boring into Lovino's annoyed eyes.

"Would I fuck? Now leave me alone," Lovino snapped, standing up to storm off when Sadiq lashed out a hand and grasped his wrist tight, pulling Lovino back and pinned him against the bar.

"Now, wait a minute, I just want to talk to you. Nothing wrong with that, is there?" Sadiq asked, his dark eyes glittering slightly. Lovino just about managed to resist the urge to knock him out with a single headbutt.

"Get off me before I rip your dick off," Lovino stated, snarling slightly. Sadiq just smirked and pressed up against the Italian.

"Hmm...I do so like them when they're feisty," he mused, almost to himself. Lovino didn't like the sound of the group who were ominously referred to as 'them' and didn't wish to join it anytime soon. Fuck, didn't this guy have a Greek boyfriend or something?

"I swear, if you don't get off me, I'll kill you!" Lovino snapped, wriggling desperately and trying to get away. Fear tinged inside of him as panic slowly began to build up. Sadiq just hummed, nuzzling his nose into Lovino's hair and chuckling.

"Keep on wriggling, it feels oh-so-nice," he leered, glancing down at the Italian with lusty, perverted eyes. Lovino was about to knock some sense into the bastard when someone beat him to it. All Lovino saw was a blur of red and green and that was all he needed to find out who his hero was.

"Lovi is MINE!" cried a strongly accented voice with enough passion to make Lovino's knees tremble. The Spaniard had tackled Sadiq to the ground with impressive grace and strength. Lovino just quivered slightly and simple stared, blinking at the scene before him. Antonio, whose arms were still streaked red and whose hair was steadily turning back brown, was growling fiercely in Sadiq's face.

"Mine! Mine, mine, mine!" Antonio snarled, as he grasped Sadiq's shirt and started shaking him rapidly. "You can't touch him! You can't look at him! Lovi! Is! Mine!" Lovino watched the proceedings with a disturbed look upon his face. Never, not even when they broke up, has he ever seen Antonio look so..._hysterical_ before.

Giving the Turk one final shake, Antonio stood up and dragged Lovino away from the bar. Sadiq stayed on the ground, staring at the ceiling dizzily. Now he knew why he preferred fucking Heracles. The Greek boy never had any psycho exes that could come out and kill him. Jesus Christ.

Antonio had pulled Lovino to a quiet corner of the club, just under the staircase leading to Mathias' office, and began lecturing him on why talking to strangers was dangerous. Lovino blinked at the absurdity of the situation and felt affronted that Antonio was treating him like a child.

"Honestly Lovi~, you really ought to be more careful around people like him!" Antonio scolded, sounding very much like a mother who was at the end of her tether. "You never know when they could hurt you!"

Lovino scowled, averting his eyes to glare at the floor. "You mean like yourself. 'Cause I sure as hell didn't know that you, you of all fucking people, could hurt me!" he snapped, clenching his fists to keep away the tears.

Antonio frowned sadly, the urge to reach out and pull Lovino to him was almost too tempting to resist. "Lovi...you know I'm sorry! Please believe me! You're _my_ most loveliest Lovi," he said, his eyes wide and pleading.

"That's the thing. I'm not _your_ 'Lovi' anymore. Bastard!" Lovino groused, crossing his arms and looking away. Antonio's face fell and he sighed.

"Please, I do so adore you Lovino. So much more than your brother. I never should have said that and I never should have hit you. It was wrong," he said, his gaze falling to the floor as he spoke. Lovino glanced up, his eyes wide and desperate.

"Then why did you? Bastard! I trusted you and then you go and do something like that?" he asked, disbelief colouring his tone. Antonio flinched and nodded.

"I know, I understand. B-But _querida_, you need to understand that it was a mistake. One I shall never, ever make again and one I will end up paying for, for the rest of my life!" Antonio cried, desperate for Lovino to understand him and listen to him.

Lovino shook his head. "I...I...I just...I know, it's just...you _hurt_ me," he said, looking as vulnerable as he ever would in his life. Antonio nodded and then reached out, but Lovino moved away, almost flinching in fear.

"Please. Just listen to me and stop all of these...jokes you've been playing on us," Antonio said, looking even more serious than he did on the night they broke up. Lovino squirmed uncomfortably and sighed.

"I'm not going to apologize...bastard. You deserved everything you got!" Lovino insisted, still not looking at him. Antonio shook his head and stepped forwards.

"I don't think I did. I know I hurt you, I know I scared you. But please, let me earn your forgiveness," Antonio said, smiling weakly at the Italian. Lovino looked up and winced at the raw love he saw in Antonio's eyes.

...but he just couldn't trust him. Licking his lips nervously, Lovino swallowed hard and sighed. "I can't let you do that now. I can't let you...just fucking waltz straight back into my life and expect me to just fucking accept you. I just can't," he said, his face hard and cold as he spoke. Antonio faltered slightly, before forcing a smile onto his face.

"At least think about it. For me. Please, _querida_?" he asked, hope lighting up his eyes as he cocked his head to the side.

Lovino bit his lip. Then reluctantly and slowly, he nodded. "But don't get your hopes up. And I'm not making any promises!" he snapped, pointing a finger at the Spaniard with fire burning in his eyes. Antonio clapped his hands and grinned brightly.

"Oh Lovi~! You've made me such a happy guy! Oh, I do so love you!" he cried, his delight shining in his eyes. Lovino hissed at him.

"I haven't forgiven you! I haven't even considered the very thought of it, so stop getting your damn hopes up!" he snapped. Antonio just shrugged.

"But you will consider it! Oh, thank you Lovi~! Just...promise you that you won't stray off to strange men again," the Spaniard said, his eyes hard and serious for a second. Lovino blinked and then scowled.

"OI! No fucking promises I said!" he snapped and then pushed the Spaniard away from him. "Now piss off and leave me alone!"

Antonio nodded and blew him a kiss. "As you wish, _querida_!" he cried and turned on his heel, practically skipping away from the fuming Italian.

"Bastard," Lovino muttered and began his way back to the bar. After that confrontation, he definitely needed a drink...or eight.

When he sat back down, he smoothly stole a bottle of vintage wine and began to pull the cork out. As he did so, Lovino glanced around the club to see if he could find any of the others. The dark made it difficult to see anyone within the club unless they were on the dance-floor. He wrinkled his nose as he realised that the only one he could recognize was the Spanish bastard he had just been speaking.

Lovino frowned as he watched Antonio skip up to a blonde girl. A very pretty blonde girl. A very, very—oh. She looked like Bella. Antonio's 'best girlfriend'. It couldn't be though, because her brother was insanely protective of her and wouldn't dare let her out in a club like this, right? Choking, Lovino gasped as the blonde girl squealed and threw her arms around Antonio's neck, dragging him down for a kiss. The cork from the wine bottle came out with a _pop_, and almost smacked the Italian in the head. He truly was that absorbed in what he was seeing.

The blonde smiled up at Antonio, a pretty flush on her cheeks, whilst the Spaniard pulled her in close, laughing at something she said. Lovino felt a stab of pain and furrowed his brows. They looked very happy together, very…intimate together. He has always been slightly jealous of how close Antonio was with girls. How affectionate and touchy-feely Antonio always got. Although, Antonio was like that with everyone. With girls though...it made Lovino feel quite ill if truth be told.

"What the…" he muttered, his eyes widening as they started dancing together.

The Italian fumed as he watched Antonio drape himself over the blonde's shoulders. He actually couldn't fucking believe it. That Spanish bastard had the audacity to chew him out about flirting with other people, when he himself was glued to some girl's side. The Italian tried very hard not to jump to conclusions...but it was very difficult when Antonio had his arms around the girl's waist, and the girl had her lips glued to Antonio's cheek.

Lovino tried really hard _not_ to jump to conclusions and to _think_ before he acted out. After all, hadn't Antonio just proclaimed his love for him in a very believable and passionate manner? So naturally Lovino just needed to calm his mind down before it exploded. Except his mind and his brain seemed to have frozen the moment Antonio kissed the girl back. Lovino flinched and clenched his fists.

"Bastard," he hissed.

X-x-X-x-X

If there was one thing that Alfred learnt from trying to coax a nervous Canadian out of a toilet stall, it was the 'The Boombox' had really crappy toilets.

And they were out of toilet-paper. In every stall.

And there were fifty-eight tiles in the ceiling.

And Matthew could be incredibly stubborn when he wanted to be.

"C'mon dude! The albino freak isn't even here yet!" Alfred said, not understanding why his brother was hiding. If it was him, he would have swaggered straight out and then knocked the white-haired fucker into next week.

"I-I-I can't...I d-don't know what to say!" Matthew whispered, fiddling with his hoodie sleeves. Gilbird, who had managed to sneak into Matthew's hair, chirped sadly and nuzzled Matthew's head gently. Alfred on the other hand, snorted and crossed his arms.

"Dude! Just tell him he's a fucking freak and that you're done with him!" he said, rolling his eyes. Matthew flinched and squirmed on the toilet seat.

"I can't do that! That's so rude!" Matthew cried, shaking his head and burying his face in his arms.

"Who cares? It's fucking Gilbert? He's just some jerk that needs to get over himself! Besides, your with Lars, and yeah I don't exactly approve of him either, he's shit-loads better than that fucking freak," Alfred said, rocking to and fro as he spoke.

Matthew made an angry noise and clenched his fists. "I still love Gilbert! I can't just get over him like that!" he snapped back, Gilbird tweeted softly, fluffing up in delight at the Canadian's words.

"Why though? He's an idiot!" Alfred said, completely confused as to why Matthew felt like this.

The Canadian growled and then threw the stall-door open. "Listen! I know you're incapable of understanding even the basics of what it's like to be in love, but I just can't get over Gilbert like that! I like Lars, yes, but it'll take much more than that to help me get over him!"

Alfred blinked, furrowing his brows as he stared down at his brother. "I understand love. I'm in love. Right now. W-W-With Kiku. Yeah! That's right; I'm in love with Kiku! So don't you dare tell me I don't understand love!" he argued back, feeling angry at Matthew and himself.

The Canadian frowned. "If you understand love, then you'll understand why I can't get over Gilbert," he said quietly.

Alfred shook his head. "Don't be stupid! Getting over that freak should be easy! Besides you have _Lars_! You must be on your way on getting over him! So fuck him!"

Unable to take Alfred anymore, Matthew cried out in anger and shoved Alfred aside so he could leave. "You don't understand anything, eh!" he snapped heatedly, averting his eyes so he could ignore Alfred's hurt expression.

Without looking back, Matthew stormed out of the bathroom, his eyes burning and his mind buzzing with angry and confused thoughts. Alfred ran after him, completely oblivious to Matthew's inner torment, but knowing that his brother was hurting and that he needed to be there for him.

The Canadian didn't even see where he was going, pushing past people and stumbling into people. He absentmindedly heard Alfred calling after him, but he didn't take any heed to it. It was only when a strong hand yanked on his wrist did he stop. He was dragged back, his back slamming into someone's chest. Looking up, he saw it was Alfred's chest, but Gilbert's hand.

"Hey Birdie," Gilbert said, winking at the Canadian before him. Matthew tried to speak back, but the sudden appearance of the albino made him squeak in shame. Gilbert's hair was mostly white again, bar the odd streaks of orange that remained behind. It was a sight that Gilbird was glad to see.

Alfred cursed and pulled Matthew away from the freak. "What the hell do you want?" he growled, his blue eyes glowing with hate.

"I want to talk to Mattie, if that's alright with you," Gilbert said, almost mockingly, his eyes glinting in the club's strobe lights.

"Fuck off you albino bastard! Or do you want me to remind you why you need to back off?" Alfred asked, cocking his head to the side, the flashing lights illuminated his grin, making him look like one scary motherfucker. Gilbert snarled, baring his teeth in anger.

"I don't need to back off, I need to talk to Mattie!" he hissed, clenching his fists as he readied himself for a fight.

Matthew's eyes widened, biting his lip and looking around to see if anyone was witnessing this scene. Unfortunately for him, no one nearby was paying attention to the verbal fight, leaving Matthew helpless to watch. Gilbird ruffled his feathers in annoyance as Matthew's brother once again tried to prevent his master getting back together with his mate.

"You can talk to Mattie over my dead body!" Alfred snapped, his glasses shining ominously.

Gilbert scoffed. "If it comes to that, then so be it!" he hissed back.

Alfred opened his mouth to make a retort, but a vibrating in his pocket stopped him. Pulling it out and flipping it open, his face paled to see who it was. Hesitantly, he lifted the phone to his ear and flinched as the person on the other side began to talk.

"K-K-Kiku! Babe! How are you? Ahahahahaha~!" Alfred cried, his voice shaking and his lips stretched into a false smile.

Throwing one last dirty glare at the albino bastard, Alfred slunk away to a quieter part of the club to dig himself out of the hole he was currently in.

Gilbert grinned, whilst Matthew wilted a little. Now he had no back-up or anyone to give him the slightest bit of courage.

"Jesus, now that he's out of the fucking way, you can tell me something birdie. What the fuck is going on?" Gilbert said, his eyes flashing with annoyance. Matthew shrank back and began to stutter.

"W-W-Well...I-I-I...it's...um...ah...y-you see—" Matthew's voice shook as he spoke. Gilbert rolled his eyes.

"C'mon, just tell me what I did wrong? I'm assuming I did do something wrong, right? 'Cause you know, normally when I fuck stuff up, people tell me. So tell me now, how the hell did I fuck up?" Gilbert said, tilting his head slightly. Matthew frowned and then sighed. He had hoped that Gilbert would understand what he did; Matthew had told him time and time again that it hurt him to be 'forgotten' so he had hoped that the albino would realise his own mistakes and just apologise.

Apparently, that was something that Matthew wasn't going to get tonight.

"It's just...I wasn't happy Gilbert. I mean, I was, but towards the end I just realised that you...weren't a good boyfriend," Matthew said, sighing and looking away. Gilbert flinched, his eyes widening with shock.

"I'm not a good boyfriend? The fuck? How the hell am I not a 'good boyfriend'?" Gilbert demanded. Matthew sighed, fiddling with the bottom of his hoodie.

"You...you flirt with everyone but me. You buy everyone presents but me. You're so nice and lovely to everyone but me! The only time I do get your attention is when you're alone and bored! That, a good boyfriend, does not make!" Matthew snapped, jolting Gilbird slightly. The bird fluffed up at Matthew's heated words, but one look at his master made him coo sadly. His master appeared to be very confused and unsure of himself, causing Gilbird to deflate slightly.

"Birdie, that's just how I am. I told you that I was like that! I thought you'd be cool with it!" Gilbert said seriously. Matthew gaped at him.

"How on Earth could I be 'cool' with you being so flirty and romantic to everyone but me? That's not right!" Matthew retorted, glaring hard at the albino before him.

"No, no, no. I'll tell you what's not right! Pretending to be okay with me flirting with everyone! What's up with that?" Gilbert demanded, throwing his hands in the air with frustration.

"I just wanted to make you happy! Obviously being with me wasn't enough, so I let you flirt with those people! I realise now that I never should have done that! I should have made you pay more attention to me!" Matthew cried, his lilac eyes darkening to a violent violet.

Gilbert spluttered. "P-Pay more attention to you? That's all I ever did!" he said. Matthew shook his head.

"No! You ignored me, unless you were alone yourself. You never paid attention to me and you never made me feel special. You never bought me any gifts or took me to any special places for our dates! You even said it yourself, you started going out with me due to a dare! That's more fucked up than anything I could have ever done, eh!" Matthew shouted, his verbal tic slipping in slightly. Gilbird chirped in fright.

"You're still not over that? I thought we talked about that!" Gilbert said, narrowing his eyes. "Yes, it was a dare; but I still fell for you! I love you!"

Matthew paused. Gilbert had never said that before. Then again, Gilbert was probably lying just to get him back. The Canadian snorted and shook his head. "You never loved me. You don't even know what love is, do you? Of course you don't. But Lars does and that's just one more thing on the very long list of why he's a better boyfriend than you!" he said, scornfully.

Gilbert snarled and clenched his fists. Matthew suddenly felt as if he had crossed some invisible line and flinched.

"Fine then, if that's what you believe, then so be it!" Gilbert snapped. Matthew bit his lip and trembled slightly.

"W-Wait, I didn't mean that...I—"

"No! I'm a shitty boyfriend. I get it. I hope you and that marijuana-freak have a lovely life together," Gilbert hissed, his red eyes shining with unshed tears. Gilbird, unable to take it anymore, cheeped and flew straight out of Matthew's hair. Gilbird adored Matthew, he really did. But seeing Gilbert's broken expression broke Gilbird's heart and the bird knew that he had to return to his master.

"C'mon Gilbird, we're obviously not wanted anymore," Gilbert hissed and then stormed off without a second glance.

Matthew flinched as he watched the little bird fly away, landing in Gilbert's hair. The bird instantly made his nest once more, burrowing deep amongst the strands that smelt strongly of bleach and cooed sadly. He knew that he had, effectively, dumped Matthew as well...but his master needed him more.

Feeling guilty, Gilbird tried to chirp out his apologies to Matthew, but his tweets were drowned out by the music. Feeling utterly awful, Gilbird settled down in Gilbert's head and chirped sadly to himself.

Matthew on the other hand, clenched his fists and swallowed down the sobs that threatened to erupt from his throat. His eyes burned and so did his face. He didn't know why, but he felt really cold all of a sudden. Swallowing the Canadian glanced towards the bar and sighed.

He really needed a drink.

X-x-X-x-X

Arthur hissed as the pain blossomed in his hand.

He glared down at the Plebeian who was curled up in pain on the floor and decided to sneak away from the scene and smoothly melted in with the crowds. He wanted to avoid any further confrontations that could get him kicked out of the club. Luckily, the twat's friends were more concerned with the fact that their leader was currently leaking blood all over the nice dance-floor than going after the guy who punched him..

Arthur figured he had an easy escape.

Until he bumped into a very familiar body.

"_Mon cher_, what has happened to those pretty fingers?" a French voice purred, the owner taking hold of Arthur's hand and placing a sweet kiss on top of it. Arthur's fingers were bruised slightly and Francis' kiss made them tingle from the contact. Not wanting to get lost in the moment, Arthur snatched back his hand and slapped Francis with his other one.

"You slimy bastard! I asked you here to talk, not to get molested!" Arthur scolded, grasping his hand to his chest and rubbing the French-germs off of it. Francis pouted, pretending to be hurt.

"Oh, but Arthur...I can do both at the same time," he said, licking his lips and winking at the fuming Brit.

"You utter wanker! I'm giving you this chance to explain yourself! You ought to take it before I—" Arthur cried, only to have a perfectly manicured hand slap over his mouth. Francis shook his head and sighed.

"_Mon petit amour_, I would love the chance to explain myself; but first, do calm down. Oh and please don't interrupt until I have finished," Francis said seriously.

Arthur just bit his hand.

"Ack! Such sharp teeth! Oh, how I have missed them...nibbling my gorgeous ears, my lovely neck, my beautiful pe—"

"Shut up! Fine, you can explain! Just do so before I kill you!" Arthur interrupted, his face flushing furiously. It seems that his previous plan of listening _calmly_ to the French-fancy has seemingly gone down the toilet. He guessed that Francis just had that effect on him. Francis just chuckled sadly and nodded.

"First of all, _cher_, I have never, ever cheated on you. The thought has never even passed my mind. You're just that special to me," Francis began, his eyes begging Arthur to believe him. The Brit just kept quiet, his face a perfect mask of neutrality. Francis licked his lips nervously and then sighed, his face a picture of fierce determination.

"That night was a mistake. Had I known that you were waiting for me, looking as beautiful as you did, then I never would have...I just wouldn't have even thought about...it's just that Michelle was there and she was comforting me," Francis said, his determination fading slightly as he failed to try and get his message across.

Arthur just snorted. "Comforting you? Yes, I could see that," he sniped, rolling is eyes. Francis flinched and held up his hands.

"Please, let me finish?" he asked. Arthur just shifted and nodded reluctantly. "_Merci_. You see, she found me in 'The Café Around The Corner'. I'll admit it, but I was sulking there. You see, it felt as if you had been avoiding me all day! _Cher_, I thought you were trying to tell me something and Michelle thought as such too!" the French-fancy said, his eyes sad and droopy.

Arthur furrowed his brows and folded his arms. "So instead of waiting for me to explain myself, you jumped to conclusions and then jumped the nearest person who would give you pity?" he asked with disbelief.

Francis frowned. "Of course not! _Cher_, Michelle insisted that—"

"Stop blaming bloody Michelle! It takes two to fucking tango Francis! _You_ had _your_ tongue down _her_ throat! It's as much as fault as hers as it is yours!" Arthur snapped, his eyes flashing dangerously. Francis held up his hands once more.

"I was never placing all the blame on Michelle! Of course it's my fault as well, but if only you had just told me that you had something planned before you began avoiding me, then maybe—" Francis snapped back.

"Oh! So it's my fucking fault is it? It's my fault that you cheated on me!" Arthur raged, his hands clenched into tight fists.

"Don't be so dramatic Arthur! You're twisting my words around! I only meant that—" Francis started, but Arthur was far too gone in his rage to listen.

"You fucking implied it! You might as well of said it! I avoided you, you jumped to conclusions and then your tongue jumped down Michelle's neck! You utter twat!" Arthur hissed. Francis recoiled and then narrowed his eyes.

"I thought you were going to listen to me! Apparently not! As it is though, it seems you have become rather hypocritical as of late!" Francis said, crossing his arms, his eyes betraying his hurt. Arthur scrunched up his face in confusion.

"What the bloody hell are you talking about?" he asked, his voice returning to normal volume. Francis snorted.

"You and Alfred. I think it's safe to say that just about everyone saw you grinding against him as if he were that stripper's pole from last year," Francis said, scowling slightly. "I wonder what _darling_ Kiku would say if he heard about that?"

Arthur spluttered and turned red. "W-What? What the fuck are you on about? A-Alfred and I...i-it was perfectly innocent! Of course _you_ would turn it into something dirty! You fucking disease-ridden frog!" he hissed, his eyes narrow and full of hurt and anger.

Francis shrugged and looked the picture of misery. "At least I'm not a hypocrite," he said and then he turned away, unable to face Arthur anymore without getting the urge to breakdown and cry. "Maybe we should talk another time, when you're not so busy humping Alfred. _Au revoir_,_ cher_."

Arthur watched as Francis sauntered off, his pale pink hair bouncing about as he moved. The Brit sighed and cursed his short temper. He knew that talking to Francis wouldn't have gone smoothly, but he had envisioned some sort of closure to have occurred. Alas he was left, once more, with nothing. The Brit no longer even knew what he wanted anymore.

He loved Francis...he just wanted an apology and a real explanation as to why he did what he did. Arthur just guessed that he was hoping for too much. With a heavy heart and unshed tears burning his eyes, Arthur felt the urge to get pissed and get pissed fast.

Trailing back to the bar, Arthur eyed Alfred speaking quickly on the phone. He guessed it was Kiku, judging by the guilty and terrified look in Alfred's eyes. Well, fuck. The Brit clicked his tongue and then slumped down on a bar-stool next to a certain depressed Canadian.

"Didn't work out, huh?" Matthew asked lightly. Arthur snorted.

"Not a fucking chance. All I wanted was an apology...a real, heart-felt apology. I didn't even get that," he muttered. "You?"

"Same. He still doesn't get it. He still doesn't understand why I'm hurt. So we argued and then he just left. Gilbird's gone as well," the Canadian said, his hand automatically reaching up to touch his hair.

Arthur frowned. "Sorry about that, didn't think he'd go back," he said, reaching out to squeeze Matthew's shoulder softly.

"It's alright. I expected it to happen sooner or later," Matthew responded. "Although, I do wonder how Lovino is getting along..."

Arthur hummed. "Indeed."

"Well, bastards, I can tell you that Lovino isn't getting along! In fact, Lovino isn't getting along at-fucking-all!" an Italian voice snapped. Lovino marched up to the bar, hissing and snapping at anyone who strayed too near to him. Arthur frowned, whilst Matthew gave him a sympathetic look.

Neither said a word to him though. There was no need.

"I fucking hate this club," Lovino hissed as he leant against the bar. Matthew just sighed and Arthur snorted softly.

"Remember the first time we came here? With _them_? Matthew here, ended up getting drugged and almost date-raped. You got into a bar-fight and I...ended up half-naked on a stripper's pole. All incidents of which were witnessed by a certain group of wankers. Who did _nothing_ about any of those events," Arthur whispered, looking as broken-hearted as the other two felt.

Matthew just gave a half-hearted giggle, before sighing sadly as he remembered that night. Lovino just frowned at the pair of them.

The Italian watched as Arthur rubbed his temples wearily, his eyes glistening with unshed, angry tears. The Italian then glanced at the Canadian, running a hand through his Gilbird-less hair. They had all been hurt, once again. They had all been left, once again. Lovino vaguely recalled a line being drawn some time ago, but to be perfectly honest, he didn't actually give a damn about it right now.

His heart couldn't take it right now and he was pretty sure that his two friends couldn't handle anymore hurt right now. So fuck them. Fuck the lot of them.

Throwing an arm around his two depressed _amici_, Lovino sighed and pulled them in close.

"Remember that plan I had with the sticky-notes and the rope and whatnot?" he drawled, causing Matthew to scrunch his brows in confusion, whilst Arthur pulled away with suspicion written on his face. He didn't trust the Italian at the best of times and now was not a good time.

"What of it?" the Brit asked, glancing over his shoulder to see Alfred still pleading with Kiku on the phone. He suspected that he may need another ride home. Alfred did not look happy and an unhappy Alfred equaled a mightily pissed off Kiku. This did not bode well for Arthur as he was pretty much the only reason as to why Alfred is out past his curfew.

"How about we set that plan in motion?" Lovino said, his eyes sparkling with mischief. "After all, it would be a shitty shame for our excellent plan to end without a bang, right?"

Matthew hummed slightly. "We're not going to kill them, are we?" he asked sardonically.

"No, no, no. They aren't worth the trouble of committing murder. We're just going to give them one fucking last lesson. A lesson that will remind them, _permanently_, as to who they fucked with, and why they shouldn't fuck with us again," Lovino purred, pulling his friends in closer.

Arthur glanced over to Matthew, smirking when he saw the Canadian's eyes light up eagerly.

"Alright. We're listening."

* * *

><p><strong>Now can you see why it took me forever? Ugggg! *headdesk, head/desk, head/desk***

**Anyways, as much as I would love to have them make the happy ending come true, I can't. Not just yet. After all, a line has just been made and therefore, it needs to be crossed, no?**

**...okay, so maybe you can kill me...but at least wait until the story is finished! ^_^**

**ANYWAYS! Thanks goes to:** _WeWriteTheTruth, amerique, MTP, ms. nightshade , anonymous1, Lodella, WindMirrorAutumn, Bohemian Otaku, sweetness4theheart, anon, anon, Clueless Uke, -MoonxStar-, Anglia-chan, Sybil Corvax, demonlifehealer, Readers-Section, aiko8bit, xXIceXxShatteredXx, Anji-Chan666, Her-Bloody-Majesty, Miggery, peaceoutandenjoythebeauty, JazzyAli, Kaya Yurushi, Rain. unloved, Dissideum, Iggy'ssecretadmirerer, OreoPandas, Caca, NekOtaku, Chibi Russia-Kun, InTheAsylum, OneGirlStudio, claudiaasd, alguien22792, dontpokemepleez, TABC, Jankz, Mikadocon, AshCollector, Neko Ninja Hezza, Raven _**annnnd**_ RomaneLuka_**!**

**Special thanks to **_MTP_**! I hope your friend gets better~! Mwah!**

**Love you all so much~!**

**So major USUK-age going on here. Past USUK, naturally~! But not anymore. Alfred is totes Kiku's bitch and Arthur just enjoys having someone love him without the messy romantic-shit~! Plus, I could never break Ameripan up in this story~!  
><strong>

**Love City Girl**

**x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x**

**P.S. - did I mention that next chapter will be the BTT's side of the story?**


	13. How To Get The Other Side

**Bleurghhh...I feel so sick. ****=(**

**Like literally. I feel like I'm dying. All yesterday, I did nothing but hack my guts up and watch Vocaloid videos and dark!Hetalia videos. By the way, dark!America and dark!Spain are like, love personified. And fem!Prussia. I have a girl-crush on fem!Prussia. And I usually hate gender-bends. But she's just beautiful. Guh.**

**And then someone sent me a link to a video where it's nothing but a collection of dubbed!Spain clips. Be still my beating heart~! GAH! His voice makes me melt and feel all kinds of wonderful things! Beautiful things, which are nice when you're ill like me...**

**Ahem. I guess this is the chapter some of you have been waiting for! The BTT's side of the story!**

**ENJOY!**

* * *

><p><span>Chapter 13 - How To Get The Other Side<span>

Francis Bonnefoy liked to think himself as a patient man.

He also liked to think that what he had with Arthur was special, and as such, he felt the need to actually celebrate their first annual anniversary together. They had never celebrated monthly anniversaries or weekly anniversaries or anything like that. Francis didn't even remember their first kiss or their first date. If they ever had one, that is. Either way, this was one special occasion that Francis wanted to celebrated. With Arthur.

Whether the other boy wanted to or not.

As such Francis, clutching a bouquet of roses, was waiting quite patiently outside the girl's toilets. The same girl's toilets he had just seen Arthur run into. To avoid him. Francis' lips curled into a smirk. Arthur always had been a naughty boy.

Thus, with a charming grin and a beautiful twinkle in his eye, Francis waited. And waited. And waited the entirety of the fifteen minutes they had for break before their next lesson began. His charming grin was starting to slip when he heard the bell ring, signaling the end of the break. Biting his lip, Francis cocked his head to the side and wondered if missing his next lesson would be worth waiting for Arthur to come out.

The French boy checked the clock once more, before deciding to cut his losses and go. As he turned to leave, the door to the girl's bathroom opened and he twirled around excitedly, shoving the roses into the face of the person who had come out.

"W-What the..." the cutest voice in the world spluttered. Francis froze and removed his bouquet from the person's face. To his horror, it was not his beautiful _lapin_, rather it was the adorable Ms. Lily, sister of the school's resident trigger-happy psycho.

"Ah, _mademoiselle_, I apologize. I thought you were someone else," Francis said smoothly, regarding the pretty girl before him. He cocked his head to the side and the plucked a rose out of his bouquet and presented it to her. After all, Lily was a pretty girl and pretty girls did deserve pretty flowers.

"Ah, it's okay. Oh, no...I'm sorry, but I can't accept your pretty flower," Lily said, smiling sweetly at him. "My big brother says that I shouldn't take roses from strangers as they could have poison in them that could make me fall unconscious leaving me vulnerable to kidnappers."

Francis blinked, severely disturbed by what Vash was teaching his sister.

"Ah, but my roses have no poison in them," he said, and then lifted one to sniff at it. "See, no poison whatsoever. Surely a lady like you must appreciate having a flower presented to her, _non_?"

Lily giggled and shook her head. "But only if those flowers are from my big brother," she said. "Thank you for the gesture though. It's really nice."

And with that, she turned and walked away. Francis pouted and tucked the rose back into the bouquet, before remembering something and turning back to her. "Ah, _mademoiselle_, I was wondering if you had, perhaps, bumped into a boy in there! Blond hair, green eyes, most likely muttering about frogs?" he called to her, prompting Lily to turn around and nod excitedly.

"Yes, I saw him. He gave us quite a fright when he ran in...the other girls seemed to understand what he meant by 'escaping the frog' and let him stay in there. But I'm afraid he left through the other side," she said, causing Francis' eye to twitch badly.

"Other...side? There's another way into this bathroom?" he asked, gaining a nod from Lily. He cursed and was half-tempted to throw the roses away, before he remembered how much his darling _lapin_ loved to play hard-to-get. He turned to Lily and bowed gracefully to her. "_Merci mademoiselle_, you have been most helpful!"

Lily giggled and then curtsied to him. "You're welcome!" she called and then skipped off.

Francis waved her goodbye, smiling slightly to himself. She was such a lovely girl; pity about her insane brother through. With that he turned and headed to his next lesson. After all, there was always lunchtime. Tucking the roses back into his bag, Francis walked off whistling to himself. Arthur would eventually give in, he always did.

And yet...

As the day went on, Francis found himself constantly avoided. He would catch glimpses of Arthur, only to have the boy disappear within seconds. He even tried calling out his darling, only for the Brit to ignore him and duck into the nearest girl's toilets. Francis had tried to follow him, but ended up getting attacked by the female creatures in there.

Jesus. Girls really liked Arthur, huh?

Even their mutual friends such as Kiku refused to help him.

When the end of the day came, Francis felt his hope had died and his optimism had burned away. Instead of chasing after his _lapin_ again, Francis retreated to 'The Café Around The Corner' and vowed to sulk the rest of the day away. Who knew dating Arthur could be so difficult. Well, he did knew actually. Just being friends with the defensive and distant Brit had been tough enough; it probably should have been a warning that dating him would be so much harder too.

The French boy rubbed his temples, his bouquet of roses lying sadly next to him. He cursed his mobile's inability of saving battery power as the device had died twenty minutes ago. He had three hundred free texts on there as well. He had already used two of his free texts already. One to the lady that provided him with the roses and the other one to Alfred in hopes that the American would be able to persuade the Brit to talk to him. All he received in return for his efforts was a text off Alfred stating: _Haha dude! You're on your own for this one! =D _Francis figured that his phone dying was a blessing in disguise. He knew that the remaining two hundred and ninety-eight free texts would have gone straight to Arthur, asking him about where he was, why he was avoiding, had he done something to upset him...

It was officially hopeless. His friends were out with their loved ones. His other friends had betrayed him and were working hard to keep Arthur away from him. There wasn't a single mature adult around that could help him. It was useless. Francis was feeling rather cold and lonely on his anniversary and was beginning to wonder if Arthur had forgotten, or was trying to tell him something. _Like it's over..._

The sudden thought of his relationship with Arthur being over brought tears to his eyes. Burying his face in his arms, he sighed and allowed a couple of tears to trickle out. The other tears weren't allowed to leave, because Francis' pride said so.

Had he done something bad to Arthur recently? Francis couldn't remember intentionally hurting the other boy, so maybe he had (once again) upset Arthur without knowing about it...

But the Arthur would have most certainly have informed him of that ages ago. The boy did enjoy shoving Francis' faults in his face every now and then, so surely, if Francis had hurt him, he wouldn't have let this opportunity slip. But, what if Arthur had gone to seek comfort first. What if he had run off to Alfred and is currently crying in his arms?

What if Francis had really fucked up this time and Arthur never wanted to have anything to do with him agai—

"Oh! Francis? What are you doing here? School finished an hour ago," a girl's voice interrupted his dark, dramatic thoughts and he snapped his head up to see Michelle peering down and looking quite worried. Michelle was a rare type of girl, as she could resist his charm and smack him in the face at the same time. It was one of the few traits that she shared with Arthur, regardless of the fact that she hated anything to do with the British boy. Francis hummed in minor amusement and glanced up to greet her properly.

"Ah, _ma chérie_...I don't really know what I'm doing," he said, giving her a forced smile. Glancing over to the sad, lonely bouquet, Francis picked up a rose and then presented it to her with flourish. Michelle blinked and then gave him a wry smile.

"Honestly, your charms don't work that easily on me. Besides, I thought you were with Sir Grump-A-Lot," Michelle commented, taking the rose from him and tucking it behind her ear. Francis chuckled dryly and propped his head up with a hand.

"I thought so too, _chérie_," Francis replied. "But apparently not."

Michelle frowned and wrinkled her nose. "But you two were so happy together. Well...as happy as that miserable bastard can get anyway," she said, wondering what the hell could have gone wrong to break up such an...unbreakable couple. Francis shrugged.

"Arthur is not a 'miserable bastard'. He just has trust issues. And abandonment issues. And relationship issues," Francis listed, his voice taking on a rather dreamy tone. He had enjoyed getting Arthur to overcome each and every one of those issues. Especially the last one.

Michelle giggled. "And tea issues! And spazzy-see-unicorns-everywhere issues!" she chortled, making Francis smile slightly. Those issues were actually his favorites. He adored making tea for the English boy, especially first thing in the morning, where Arthur's defenses were down and Francis could smother him with love to his heart's content. He also loved Arthur's slight addiction for anything pink and fluffy and unicorn-shaped.

He wondered if Arthur had kept the plushie he had bought for him...

"Ah, _mon amour_ is a special kind of person, _non_?" Francis sighed, softly stroking a rose in his bouquet. Michelle just laughed and rolled her eyes.

"Emphasis on the 'special' I guess. Still, I don't reckon you should waste time moping about. Why don't you go to him and ask him about it? Wouldn't hurt, right?" she asked, tucking a lock of hair behind her ear.

Francis hummed. "Could hurt my heart though," he muttered. Michelle just shook her head. Of all the melodramatic things Francis has ever said, this had to be in the top three!

"You're hurting your heart right now," she murmured, poking him on the shoulder gently. Francis hummed in agreement and then glanced up to her. She really was a pretty girl. She had lovely shining black hair and beautifully smooth cocoa skin. She was really nice as well. And Michelle was just about the only girl that could stand up to Arthur and his fiery temper. What an absolutely wonderful girl...

Francis continued to stare at her and then hummed. Bringing his hand up to cup her face, he kissed Michelle sweetly on the lips. He hadn't meant to kiss her; he hadn't even thought about kissing her. She was just there and being so lovely and Francis had just missed being with someone being so nice to him. The girl froze slightly, shocked by his sudden actions. Michelle pulled away and pushed him back, giving him a disbelieving glare.

"What about Arthur? You can't just go around kissing people because your boyfriend's avoiding you!" she scolded, crossing her arms and huffing. Francis blinked and then sighed sadly.

"True...I shouldn't. I should be kissing Arthur right now, but I'm not. He is avoiding me and it's our anniversary. I honestly believe that he is trying to tell me that he is tired of me. He's probably gone back to that obnoxious American. He's probably with him now, wrapped up in each others' arms, looking deep into each others' eyes...oh! What awful images!" he cried, tears trickling down his cheeks. Michelle blinked at his stupidity. Honestly, how can anyone reach to such a conclusion so quickly? And why the hell was Francis biting on a handkerchief? Where did it even come from?

Shaking her head, the girl reached over and yanked the cloth out of his mouth. "Don't be stupid! Has Arthur told you, verbally, that it's over? And isn't Alfred going out with Kiku? Honestly, don't jump to conclusions so quickly! Idiot!" she lectured, flicking him on his ear hard.

"Ouch. _Ma chérie_ is so vicious...but I know _mon lapin_ well. Better than anyone else. If he wanted to break up with someone, he wouldn't say it to their face straight away. He's too shy for that," Francis mused whilst Michelle snorted. Arthur? Shy? Well, love really does make one blind, huh...

"So, you stubbornly believe yourself to be single again," she said, reaching up to stroke a petal on the rose he gave her. Francis nodded firmly and sighed once more.

"Not yet...but soon. I love my Arthur and I will not let him go without a proper reason!" he declared, picking up a rose and waving it about as he spoke.

Michelle cocked her head to the side. "That's really sweet," she murmured. "But...this is Arthur we're talking about. I can't imagine him actually listening to you willingly. Or at all, if I'm going to be honest." Francis snorted softly.

"Indeed," he commented, giving her a wry smile. Michelle hummed and reached over to brush his hair out of his face and tucked it behind his ear. Francis hummed and leant into the warmth of her hand, signing slightly.

"You know, thinking about it...maybe Arthur is trying to tell you something. He's not exactly the type to just come out and say these things. He's stupidly awkward like that," she said, tilting her head as she regarded her own thoughts. Francis glanced up and shrugged.

"Indeed," he repeated, leaning back to gaze up at the ceiling. Michelle watched him and shifted uncomfortably, feeling as if she were intruding upon something private. Francis watched her from the corner of his eye.

"You know, this whole situation is just...I just...I feel quite awkward just sitting here and doing nothing. Is there anything else you want me to do?" she asked, cocking her head to the side. Francis hummed and smiled.

"You know, I could so with some comforting," Francis began, his mind filling with ideas of manicures and pedicures and having Michelle do his hair for him. It's been ages since he had fun like that. Gilbert would rather die than have his nails done and Antonio just couldn't sit still for long enough. Ah, slumber parties...how he missed them!

Michelle blinked. "C-Comfort? You m-mean like..._comfort_?" she stammered, her thoughts straying off to a slumber party of a different nature.

The French boy just laughed. "Of course! What other comfort is there?" he asked, obviously not thinking about the slumber party she was thinking about.

Michelle stammered and stuttered through her protests, her face flushing hard. "B-But what a-about Arthur?"

Francis shrugged. "He won't mind," he said. "Come! Let's go!" He held out his hand and Michelle stared at it in horror. "Michelle, _ma chérie_, is there something wrong? _Non_? Then let's go!" he encouraged. The girl bit her lip before reluctantly taking his hand and allowing herself to be pulled up.

"What about the flowers?" she asked, as she was pulled out of the café. Francis just shrugged.

"Perhaps they shall be used to brighten the day of someone else," he simply said and carried on, the thoughts of manicures and pedicures making him rather giddy.

Michelle briefly wondered if she was a bad person.

Francis unlocked his apartment door and pulled her inside, tugging her towards the bedroom he shared with his friends.

When they reached the bedroom door, she paused and froze slightly. Francis was her friend. He was awfully upset and needed 'comforting'. Michelle wrinkled he her nose at the thought of sleeping with the French boy and decided that perhaps a kiss would do. Nothing more, just a kiss. She would never sleep with a guy who may or may not be taken and she wouldn't sleep with a guy unless she was dating him. A kiss would have to do because that was all Francis was getting.

Francis opened up the door and instead of seeing Arthur on his bed, he turned back to look at Michelle. The girl, without actually thinking her actions through, stumbled through the door after him and launched herself at Francis, kissing him on the lips hard. The blond struggled against her, before the warmth of a body and the feel of a pair of lips against his made him melt into his old habits. He started to kiss back, his hands instantly encircling her body.

That's when he noticed the boy lying upon his bed. He pushed Michelle away quickly and gaped at the scene before him.

Francis stared at Arthur. Arthur stared at Francis. Michelle stared at them both. Francis could barely recall what actually happened. All he knew was that Arthur was before him in a beautiful baby-doll, handcuffed to his bed. He could vaguely hear Michelle scream at him in French, before getting slapped in the face.

This snapped him out of his stupor and he felt his heart break as he finally registered the look of utter pain on his beloved's face.

Francis gaped at the beautiful boy on the bed, before his nerves got the better of him and he stormed after Michelle. The girl was still screaming at him in a blur of French and English as she walked away and Francis had to run to catch up. Grabbing hold of her arm, he yanked her back and glared at her hard.

"I told you I was _single_, did I? Did I? Because, _chérie_, I do believe that I firmly stated that I wasn't single yet!" he snapped at her, the girl's hackles rising in defense.

"I'm sorry, but I said it without thinking! After all, I don't _do_ this everyday and I certainly don't witness Arthur dressed up like...like..._that_ everyday either!" Michelle hissed, stamping her foot and shaking her head. Francis growled.

"Don't do this everyday? That's hard to believe! You seem perfectly experienced when you were kissing me just then," he retorted. Michelle almost screamed in frustration. It was only supposed to be a kiss! One that Arthur was never supposed to know about!

"You started it! You asked me to come and comfort you! What else was I supposed to think of when it came to _comfort_ and _you_!" she cried, throwing her hands up in the air.

Francis blinked. Was he really that bad? "I was talking about a slumber-party! You didn't have to agree anyway. You could have just said 'no'!" he snapped, narrowing his eyes at her. Honestly, it was like she didn't understand the concept of being able to say 'no'.

Michelle crossed her arms and glanced away with a huff. "You could have been more specific about what '_comfort_' you really needed," she muttered, causing Francis to roll his eyes at her.

"So sorry to offend you, but if I was asking for _that_ kind of 'comfort', then I wouldn't have asked it from anyone but my boyfriend!" he spat back at her. "Because I am a good boyfriend! Or at least I was until you came along!" he said, pointing an accusatory finger at her.

Michelle laughed scornfully. "Some 'good' boyfriend you are! You spent all day doubting him and wondering if your relationship was in trouble. Oh, and isn't your darling _lapin_ still handcuffed to your bed? Shouldn't you have stayed with him instead of running after me?" she asked, her tone mocking and cold. Francis swallowed audibly.

"This is _your_ fault!" he hissed, before turning on his heel and running back to his apartment. He vaguely heard Michelle curse and insult him as he went, but he paid her no heed. Instead, he just concentrated on getting back to his perfectly lovely boyfriend.

Unfortunately for Francis though, his perfectly lovely boyfriend had already fled the room.

X-x-X-x-X

Gilbert Beilschmidt had, unfairly and unjustly, been plastered with the reputation of being rather untrustworthy.

It was something that he took great offense to and as such, he sought to correct the situation. In order to do so, Gilbert managed to use his rather unique persuading abilities into getting Roderich to hand over the ring he had planned on proposing with to Eliza. The girl had been pestering him about what it was he was hiding from her, and the Austrian was reaching his limits. So, feeling desperate and resigned, he gave the ring to Gilbert and told him to hide it well.

Gilbert reckoned he had hidden pretty damn well, using one of Matthew's old hoodies to wrap it up in. Then, he had totally forgotten about it, until Roderich had come storming into his room, demanding the ring back. The albino smugly handed the ring over, his smirk grating on the Austrian's nerves.

Feeling like he ought to celebrate this little victory over Roderich, Gilbert decided to spend the day with his boyfriend. Who always seemed to be eager to spend time with him. It made Gilbert feel appreciated and even a little bit loved as well. He couldn't deny that he felt the same way towards the Canadian and decided that today was going to be a day where he would spoil Matthew.

Or, at the very least it should have been.

Gilbert found himself spending the majority of their date cursing at a shooting-game, trying to beat the high-score that belonged to some retard called 'HERO-THE-BAMF' and passively stealing money from the crowd around him. Wrinkling his nose, Gilbert couldn't help but note how the name reminded him of Matthew's brother. Figuring that it couldn't be the same person, Gilbert gave up and decided to escape the gaggle of girls that he surrounded him.

Gilbert, having grown up around men for his entire life, was still freaked out by girls and their bodies. Every since that one incident with Eliza and—urgh. The female body completely freaked him out and although he appreciated how lovely girls looked, he appreciated them a lot more as long as they kept their clothes on.

Pulling Matthew out of the arcade, they waltzed along the streets, bantering and playing around with each other. It was nice and lovely and it was the best damn thing that Gilbert had ever experienced. And it only got better when he heard someone call out his name. At first he thought he was going insane, pretending to get hurt when Matthew easily agreed with him. Then he realised just who it was and felt his entire day get better.

"Hey freak! I've been calling your name for ten whole minutes now! Pay attention to me!" Gilbert turned around and grinned at the sight of Eliza waving to him. He removed his arm from around Matthew's shoulders and chuckled.

"Hey Lizzy! You're looking totally fine and awesome today. How are you?" he called back, waving back at her. Eliza walked up to him, briefly glancing at the boy behind Gilbert. Now, Eliza had only met Matthew once or twice, but never really spoke to him. He was pretty cute, but awfully quiet. The only things she knew about him was stuff that Gilbert had said to her; like how flexible Matthew was, and how he did awesome things with his tongue, and how gorgeous his face looked when he was about to come...however, Eliza knew Gilbert and she knew him well. Which meant that she knew when the albino was outright lying to her and looking at the innocent thing stood beside him, she knew that they had done nothing with each other. Yet.

"Doing better than you hope! Oh, by the way, thank you for the ring. I had no idea that you would be so responsible enough and nice enough to actually do such a thing!" she declared, presenting him with her hand before punching him in the arm lightly. Eliza had truly been shocked to learn that Gilbert had been the one to keep the ring safe. It also explained why she could never find it either...

Gilbert grinned and watched her face light up with joy. _I can understand why...I did a damn good job of hiding that damn ring for that snobby, piano-fucker! Damn, she sure looks pretty when she's not beating me up. Mattie has a pretty smile too. Damn, I am a perfect boyfriend! I'm like, the only guy who can make Mattie smile like that. I am so fucking amazing. I should totally take a picture of him smiling and like, plaster it all over a billboard...or something. Oh. Mein. Gott! I am a fucking genius! That's totally gonna be Mattie's birthday present this year! That'll show everyone who he belongs to and that no one could love him as much as—uh, is she talking?_

"—friend?" she asked, smiling sweetly. Gilbert blinked. Who the fuck had she been talking about?

Panicking at the prospect of being destroyed by a frying pan again, Gilbert said the first thing that came to his mind. "Who?"

Elizaveta, however, just shook her head and punched him in the arm with a scowl. "Your boyfriend, you bastard! How is he?" she asked again, nodding towards the boy stood beside Gilbert.

Gilbert grinned, his eyes shining brightly. "Oh, Mattie? Why don't you ask him yourself?" he said, turning around to find is boyfriend glaring down at the floor. He repeated Matthew's name a couple more times, but the Canadian seemed too deep in thought to hear him. Feeling quite annoyed at Matthew's rudeness towards his best girlfriend, Gilbert turned back towards Elizaveta and shrugged.

The girl giggled. "He's umm...shy, huh?" she said wryly, quirking a brow at the albino.

"Yeah, well. He's like this a lot around new people. Guess he's just got to get used to you. But seriously Eliza, my birdie is perfect!" Gilbert declared, his grin wide and full of confidence. "He makes pancakes that can make you orgasm, Eliza! With just one fucking bite! And don't even get me started on the maple-syrup!"

"And that's true love, eh?" Elizaveta said, smirking. Gilbert nodded and winked at her.

"Not jealous are you?" he drawled, skillfully dodging her punch as she lunged for him, then pulling her into a quick hug. "I'm kidding! I'm kidding!"

Eliza pulled away from him, crossed her arms and grinned. "You better be! Don't think I can't kick your ass, 'cause I can!" she threatened. Gilbert cackled and peered down at her.

"Sure Roddy would be awesome with you going around kicking people's asses? Not very feminine, is it?" he asked, quirking a brow. Eliza frowned and punched him on the arm in disapproval.

"Roderich doesn't care about that. Anymore. He accepts me just the way I am and loves me for it," she stated, nodding her head for emphasis. Gilbert held up his arms in surrender and stepped back.

"Yeah, sure he does. Not exactly seeing _why_ he would though but—ACK! I'm sorry! I'm sorry!" he cried as Eliza proceeded to smack him over the head with her bag.

"You're! Just! Jealous! 'Cause! No! One! Loves! You!" she hissed, each word punctuated with a smack of her bag. Gilbert pouted and stepped back, grabbing her arm before she could attack him again.

"What do you mean 'no one loves me'? You're forgetting my fucking boyfriend who adores me, bitch! Isn't she, Mattie? Eh...Mattie?" Gilbert frowned and turned around, releasing Eliza as he did so. "Where the fuck did he go?" he muttered, glancing over to the brunette who just shrugged in response.

"I don't think he likes me all that much," she murmured, tucking a lock of hair behind her ear. Gilbert frowned and crossed his arms.

"Now why the hell wouldn't he like you? You're fucking amazing! _Everyone_ should like you," he stated, and then flushed when he realised what he had just said. "I-I mean for a girl...yeah, you're alright! For a girl!"

Eliza rolled her eyes and the waved her hand at him. "Shouldn't you be chasing after your boyfriend? You know, to figure out what's wrong?"

Gilbert blinked and then smiled sheepishly. "Y-Yeah...you have a point. See you around Eliza!" he called, as he turned to run back towards the Academy. Eliza watched him leave and then smiled to herself.

Honestly, she never thought she'd see the day where Gilbert Beilschmidt had fallen in _love_~!

X-x-X-x-X

Antonio's mind was in a frazzled state.

They were riding back on Lovino's scooter, after the disastrous date at the restaurant. As he clung on for dear life, Antonio berated himself for not knowing what _lapin _meant in English. He also cursed himself for lying to Lovino by telling him that he knew French...

However, he only told the Italian that so he could prevent him from trying to find out what Francis was really saying about him. 'Cause Antonio did understand perfectly what Francis says about Lovino and it isn't innocent. In fact, Antonio was pretty sure that Lovino would actually slaughter the French boy if he knew what was actually being said. Then resurrect him, so Arthur could murder him for looking at other boys.

Either way, Antonio knew that lying to Lovino would have dire consequences. And Antonio was suffering from them currently. The fierce words that came out of Lovino's mouth as he screamed at the Spaniard sent a stab of pain through Antonio's heart. Every other word being a swear-word, punctuated with the odd insult and having a heavy emphasis on the fact that he was a 'fucking vegetarian'.

Antonio just took all in his stride, until Lovino uttered once sentence. One sentence that made Antonio's restraint falter. One sentence that led to the relationship's downfall...

_"Damn! You know, sometimes I wonder if you were dropped on your head as a fucking child, but then I remember how fucking stupid you are and it suddenly comes to me! You weren't dropped at all, you must have been thrown at a fucking wall, you're that retarded!"_

Now, Antonio could take a lot of things, but he couldn't handle an insult directed at his intelligence. Back when he was a child, Antonio was often perceived as being rather special. His teachers would often tell his parents that he was 'slow' and that his mentality was 'different'. Antonio never really paid much attention to the adults when he was small, but one thing did stick out. He was given a label when he was young, a label that he really didn't understand at the time.

'Special needs'. Now, Antonio hadn't really cared much for the label, but his parents had. At first anyway. They had been worried that their son wouldn't be accepted into any of the good schools and that he might be picked on, or get depressed. However, when they saw how happy their son was, when they saw how much he flourished under the extra attention at school, they decided that it actually wasn't that bad.

Then the bullying started. Then that name got stuck with him. It was a word that Lovino liked to use casually, one that he often used around his brother, or Antonio himself. It was one of the faults that Antonio really didn't like about his boyfriend, but he put up with it because he loved him. It was word that still hurt and even made him flinch from time to time. _Retard_.

It was an awful insult that cut him to the core. It made him hurt, it made him cry, it made him sad.

But Lovino just didn't see that...and that just made Antonio a little bit sadder. A little bit angry. A little bit annoyed.

But still, Lovino just didn't see it.

_"I kept telling you and telling you! Did you fucking listen? Of course not! You're so fucking stupid! How you got into this fucking school astounds me! Did you pay off the governors? Cheat on the entry exams? Or suck off the headmaster? 'Cause believe me, I wouldn't be surprised if you had done any of those fucking things!"_

Now, Antonio had worked damn hard to get into the Academy. His mother had cried with happiness that he had managed to get in. His dad had bought him a new iPod as a reward. Francis and Gilbert had taken him out to celebrate. Even Arthur had shaken his hand and he's _Arthur_! He had done it to prove that he wasn't stupid. He wasn't thick. He wasn't a retard. Yeah sure, he was dense at times and of course, he had the inability to read the atmosphere sometimes.

But that didn't make him stupid. He never paid anyone to get in. He wouldn't even think about _cheating_ on any exam, no matter how much Gilbert tried to persuade him. And no...never ever, would he sleep with someone to get something.

How dare Lovino even think about besmirching his hard efforts like this? How dare he even think that Antonio would try and buy his way into the Academy, whether he used money or his body. How dare that little Italian fireball insult him like this!

Yet, the Spaniard restrained himself. This was his darling Lovino after all, and he really didn't want to hurt him. But it was just getting so hard, especially when the Italian just wouldn't _shut up_!

_"I mean honestly, sometimes I wonder if you'll ever reach a limit on how retarded you can get and then you turn around and do something so fucking stupid, it simply blows my mind. Blows my fucking mind, because never before have I met anyone so fucking stup—!"_

And Antonio snapped. He had slammed his 'precious Lovi' up against a wall. He had hissed awful, awful things into his darling's ear. His mind was clouded with hate and hurt and anger and humiliation. Antonio didn't even think about what he was saying. He just wanted to hurt Lovino. He just wanted to make him feel what he was currently feeling.

But God...to tell him about Feliciano...? As soon as he said it, Antonio had cursed himself. It was supposed to have been a secret, one that Lovino was never to know about. One that could destroy him and hurt beyond anything else. And Antonio just threw it in his face! But dear Lord! He only wanted the boy to keep quiet.

Lovino always had trouble keeping his mouth shut. He always had difficulty stopping a rant when he was already into it. But Antonio just didn't care anymore. He continued to say awful things. He continued to spew out hurtful, dark things to his lovely Lovi...and still, the Italian just couldn't keep quiet.

_"You...you...IDIOT!" _

...

...what happened next was a bit of blur for Antonio. His hand had shot out and before he knew it, he had slapped Lovino across the face. Lovino's cheek bloomed red, the hand-print coming up fast and bright.

Time seemed to have frozen for him. The Spaniard tried to utter out his apologies, he tried to get down on his knees and beg for forgiveness, but he felt frozen. He felt like he had stopped along with time itself. His heart broke as Lovino appeared robotic, emotionless, as if all life had been drained from him. Maybe it had...maybe Antonio had broken his lover...

The Spaniard watched as Lovino walked out and did nothing but watched as the door closed shut. He did nothing but stare at the space that Lovino had just occupied. He did nothing, he just stood there blinking, breathing...shaking. He felt the tears burn his eyes. He felt the lump constrict his throat. He felt himself collapse to the floor in sobs.

He felt the tears trail down his cheek. He felt them drop off and fall down to the carpet beneath him. Each tear being punctuated with a breathy and pained sob as Antonio curled up into a little ball in the middle of the room.

"Oh Lovi...Lovi...my Lovi...sorry...so sorry...please...Lovi..."

X-x-X-x-X

Later on that night, Antonio was still curled up in a ball, wondering if he should tell the albino about his predicament. Gilbert had walked in a few hours afterwards, looking frazzled and distressed. He had just about managed to tell Gilbert that he had been dumped, before being interrupted by the albino who began to rant about his Canadian boyfriend.

"I just don't get it! He just went on and on about me being a horrible bastard! Me! Can you believe that? What the hell possessed him to break up with me? I fucking love the guy, but his mood swings don't half piss me off!" Gilbert raved, his red eyes glinting madly. His precious baby, Gilbird, just chirped to himself.

His master was being stupid. Again.

"Your boyfriend got possessed? That's so scary!" Antonio cried. Gilbert sighed and wondered when Francis would get back. Gilbird just chirped and wondered if stupid was contagious and if whether he should leave just in case.

Luckily for Gilbert and not Gilbird, the Gods above had taken pity on him and proceeded to shove a hungover French boy through their door.

Francis had spent the night getting drunk at a nearby bar. His hair was greasy and lank, his eyes blood-shot and droopy and his skin looked almost grey in the dim light. Gilbert felt the urge to take a picture and use it whenever the opportunity for blackmail came up. But he didn't. Because that would be insensitive and mean.

That and he honestly couldn't remember where he had last place his camera.

"So...you get dumped too?" Gilbert asked casually, looking at his nails with disinterest, whilst internally trying to remember where the fuck he had put his camera.

Francis raised an eyebrow and chuckled dryly. "How did you guess?"

"'Cause me and Toni did as well. Just figured that you must've caught the same shitty luck we did," the albino drawled, stretching out along his bed with a lazy grin. The French boy gave him a forced smile and walked to his own bed, perching on the end of it delicately.

"Or it could be this room. Hey, did Arthur dump you in here?" Antonio mused. After all, Matthew had dumped Gilbert in here. And Lovino had dumped him in here...oh dear Lord! What if this room was cursed? Antonio's eyes widened. After being forced to watch '_Paranormal Activity_' and '_The Poltergeist_' last Halloween, Antonio found himself being slight paranoid of possessed rooms. Launching himself towards his phone, Antonio began to send texts out to all of his contacts, wanting to know if they knew any exorcists.

Francis and Gilbert ignored his strange behaviour and turned to each other.

"Ah, he didn't so much dump me in this room...rather he caught me with Michelle," Francis said, shifting uncomfortably on his bed. Gilbert blinked and gaped at the French boy before him.

"Woah. That's pretty crappy, even for you," he stated, slightly shocked that the self-proclaimed 'ambassador of love' would cheat on his _own_ love.

"It was a total misunderstanding! Although, it wouldn't have happened if he hadn't avoided me all day. I thought that was his way of saying 'it's over'. Obviously I was a bit wrong," Francis muttered bitterly. Gilbert snorted at him.

"A bit? How did he catch you out then?" he asked, genuinely interested in Francis' story. The French boy sighed and fell back on his bed, fingering his headboard softly.

"He cuffed himself to my bed whilst wearing the sexiest, littlest bunny outfit you'd have ever seen. He was_ très mignon_. I guess that was my anniversary gift," he said wistfully, his eyes glazing over as he remembered just how beautiful Arthur had looked that night. God. It must have cost him all of his pride and dignity to, not only wear it, but go out and actually buy it as well.

"Ouch," Gilbert said, smirking at Francis' dreamy expression. Francis merely sighed and gave the headboard a final stroke, before sitting up and turning to Antonio. The Spaniard was currently glaring around the room, muttering Spanish curses under his breath as he waited for his contacts to text back.

Francis shook his head and reached over, plucking the phone away from Antonio. The Spaniard blinked and shrieked, flinging himself towards Francis, desperately trying to get his phone back. Gilbert clicked his tongue and groaned.

"Toni! The room is not cursed, dammit! Get over it and stop annoying people!" he demanded, falling back on his bed whilst rolling his eyes. Antonio pouted and sat up, making himself comfortable on Francis' bed.

"So what did you do?" Francis asked, tucking a lock of his hair behind his ear.

"I...I did something really bad," Antonio said, squirming slightly under the scrutiny of his friends.

"Did you cheat?" Gilbert asked, earning a hiss from Francis. Which he ignored.

"No..." the Spaniard murmured, despite a part of him believing that he had betrayed Lovino's trust so badly, that he might as well have been cheating on him.

"Did you drape yourself all over Feliciano? Again?" Gilbert asked dryly, earning an even drier look from Francis. Antonio gasped with horror, staring at the albino in shock.

"No, I did—I don't drape on people! Especially if they aren't Lovi~!" he declared passionately. Gilbert rolled his eyes and cursed the Spaniard under his breath. Francis tutted at him and turned to Antonio with a soft smile.

"What did you do then?" Francis asked, nudging him encouragingly. Antonio opened his mouth, but then closed it again as he felt a familiar lump build up. Taking a shuddering breath, the Spaniard glanced up at his friends and whimpered.

"...I...I hit him. I said all these horrible, nasty things to him. I made him cry practically!" Antonio cried, rubbing his eyes furiously as he felt himself begin to cry. Francis frowned and reached over to brush Antonio's hair out of his face affectionately.

"Uhh...doesn't he do all that shit to you all the time?" Gilbert asked, raising an eyebrow and giving Francis a confused look. Francis shrugged and shushed him, whilst Antonio just ignored them both in favour of more important thoughts.

"I'm a horrible boyfriend!" he wailed, curling into a ball and rocking back and to whilst whimpering.

"I think you'll find yourself a horrible _ex_-boyfriend, _cher_," Francis corrected helpfully. Gilbert rubbed his temples and starting cursing his magnetism for stupid friends.

Antonio blinked before bursting into tears. His gorgeous green eyes sparkled in pain as he cried out his anguish. "M-M-My L-L-Lovi! He m-m-must h-h-_hate_ me now!" he wailed, before being smothered by two pairs of arms. Francis hummed as he pulled Antonio close to him, whilst Gilbert awkwardly patted the Spaniard on the back.

"It'll get better," Francis murmured. "You've had fights like this before."

"Not really...he's never smacked the little brat before," Gilbert commented unhelpfully. Francis flicked his ear. Antonio just sobbed.

"What he means to say," Francis said loudly, "is that this is a minor setback. You'll be back together before you know it~!"

Gilbert chuckled. "Oh yeah. That's about as likely as you getting back with schizophrenic English freak!" Francis hit him. Antonio just cried.

"You know, _mon cher_, you really are quite awful at comforting people! And Arthur is not schizophrenic! He was drunk and I'm pretty sure that arguing with thin air, which happened just the _once_, does not give you sufficient evidence that_ mon lapin_ is delusional!" Francis ranted, his blue eyes darkening to a deep navy. Gilbert audibly gulped. Now he knew where Matthew got it from...

"He must be tiny bit delusional...after all, isn't he going out with you?" Gilbert retorted, edging away from Francis and the evil aura emitting from his body. Antonio just carried on crying, oblivious to how close his friends were getting to a fight.

"Take that back!" Francis cried, pointing an accusatory finger at the albino. Swiftly jumping off the bed and away from the crazed French boy, Gilbert smirked.

"Okay, okay. I'm sorry...I forgot. He's no longer going out with you anyway, so it doesn't really matter!" he said, dodging just in time to avoid Francis who flew at him in rage. Antonio blinked at the sudden loss of contact and glanced around the room, finally spotting his friends on the floor.

Cocking his head to the side, the Spaniard crawled to the edge of the bed and furrowed his brows in confusion. "Francis? Why are you stuffing handkerchiefs down Gilbert's throat?" he asked innocently.

Francis laughed darkly. "In hopes that he may choke on them, _cher_!"

"Oh. That's not good," Antonio said simply.

"It will be when he finally dies!" Francis bit out.

"Accckk!" Gilbert gasped.

Unbeknownst to the boys in the room, there was a fourth individual who was watching them. Gilbird popped out of Gilbert's hair and started chirping furiously at the French boy who was currently trying to kill his master.

"PIYO!" he cried and swiftly flew up to bite Francis on the nose. The French boy gasped in pain and fell back, his eyes glittering with tears as he clutched his nose. Gilbert cackled hoarsely at Gilbird's beautiful move, stroking the bird's feathers softly.

"Heh, like I can ever die when I have my baby around to save me," he cooed, giving Gilbird a quick peck on his head, before lifting him up and putting him back in his hair. Antonio smiled at the scene, wishing he had a camera to savour this moment. It wasn't very often that Gilbert was seen being affectionate and 'soft' and as such, Antonio treasured the moments where Gilbert revealed his soft side to his friends.

As Gilbert cooed over his baby, Antonio glanced over to Francis who was whimpering over his bleeding nose. Tilting his head to the side, Antonio smiled and then leant over to Francis.

"I'll make it better~!" Antonio sang and then promptly kissed Francis' nose. Francis froze momentarily, until he realised just who was kissing his nose. With a familiar, naughty glint in his eye, Francis pushed himself forward to kiss Antonio on the lips. Gilbert growled in anger and snatched the Spaniard away by the back of his collar.

Francis pouted. Antonio choked. Gilbert glared.

"What the hell Frenchy? What the fuck did I say about this?" Gilbert demanded. Francis blinked and then shrugged, a lazy grin on his lips.

"He asked for it," he said simply, winking at the pair of them. Antonio quirked a brow and frowned.

"I didn't ask for a kiss...at least, I don't remember asking for a kiss. Besides! You can't kiss me! Only Lovi is allowed to kiss me," Antonio stated firmly, with a nod of the head for emphasis. Gilbert chuckled, pushing the Spanish darling away from him.

"If that's the rule you're going to live by, then you're never going to be kissed again!" the albino declared, his grin sharp and taunting.

Antonio frowned. "Not really. Lovi will come around...right Francis?" he asked, turning to face the French boy. Francis blinked and then gave Antonio a small smile.

"I...I'm sure he...I'm sure he'll think about it. Maybe. One day," the French boy said, not having the heart to lie and raise Antonio's hopes up. The Spaniard's bottom lip wobbled slightly as he took in Francis' words.

"What do you mean? He will...won't he. I mean, I know I hurt him...and I know I was really mean to him. But I can make it better, right? I can make it up to him. I'll say sorry and then everything will be alright again!" he said, his hands curling up into fists. Francis sighed at his friend's frustration and moved to sit next to him.

"You can try, _cher_. But you must remember that Lovino may not want your apologies. He is a very stubborn boy. You may have to beg to get him back," Francis said, rubbing Antonio's back gently. Briefly he wondered if begging for Arthur's forgiveness might work. Then he remembered that this was Arthur he was talking about.

Arthur, his darling _lapin_, who would much rather stab himself with a unicorn's horn than ever consider Francis' apology. The blond sighed and ignored the stab of pain to his heart at the thought of Arthur never forgiving him. Instead, he turned to comfort Antonio instead.

"Then I will! I will beg! I'll get down on my knees if I have to! I'll practically grovel if it means getting my Lovi ba—" Antonio started, his passion towards Lovino made Francis sigh dreamily. But Gilbert, sick and tired of hearing about that little Italian brat, had snapped.

"Fuck no! Fuck that shit, don't you even think about it!" Gilbert spat, rounding on Antonio with a fierce glint in his eyes. Gilbert was well-known for being pretty protective of his friends; Antonio especially because the Spaniard always seemed a little bit dense when it came to the real world and its dangers.

"Why not?" the Spaniard said, blinking his pretty eyes at the albino. Gilbert growled and bared his teeth.

"I'm sick and tired of you getting hurt because of that little brat. How many times has he hit you or kicked you? Or called you a bastard or a jerk? Or better yet, has he even told you that he loved you?" he asked, his tone mocking and icy. Francis flinched and glanced over to their Spanish sweetheart, ready to hold him back in case he got angry, or hug him tight in case he got upset.

"W-Well, no...but I know he does! Lovi just doesn't show it like everybody else. So what if he doesn't make me maple-pancakes, o-or dress up in tacky outfits? He loves me! I know it!" Antonio cried, blinking back tears. Francis' heart ached and he quickly stood up and gave the Spaniard a hug from behind. He slid his arms around Antonio's chest and pulled him back, squeezing his pretty pecs as he did so.

"Oh, and when did you come to that conclusion? Before or after he left?" Gilbert jeered, making Antonio flinch and whimper with hurt. The albino was furious that Antonio would still stand up for Lovino's rights, especially when the little twerp broke his poor heart!

"Stop it! Both of you!" Francis cried, hating it when his friends fought. It was pretty rare for any of them to fight with one another and if they did fight, then it was normally due to them being drunk. However, during those rare times when they did have a fight, Francis would always back down first or act as mediator in order to prevent their friendship from crumbling down.

"No, listen to me. Why is it okay for him to be an utter shit to you, yet it's not if you do one bad thing once? Let me answer for you...it's not okay! So fuck him! If he tries to make you feel guilty, think about tomatoes or something. If he tries to make you jealous, grab the nearest thing on legs and fuck 'em in front of him! I want him to pay for every little shitty thing he's done to you! I want _him_ on his knees and fucking groveling for forgiveness from _you_. You know what? Fuck the lot of them!" Gilbert snapped, ignoring the little voice inside his head that sounded a lot like Matthew.

_Please Gilbert, don't do this. Please. _Unfortunately for that voice, it was about as loud as the Canadian himself, therein Gilbert ignored it with ease. Instead, he listened to the much louder voice in his head, which disturbingly enough, sounded like Lovino: _fuck the fucking fuckers!_

Never before in his life had Gilbert agreed with the Italian so quickly.

X-x-X-x-X

The next few days were fucking hell, to put it bluntly.

First of all, they got beaten up. By Alfred F. Jones of all people. Although, Francis had seen it coming. Francis had seen it coming from ten miles away. Gilbert had seen it coming as well. Except, he had only seen it from ten millimeters away when Alfred's fist had headed for his face.

Antonio, who had no connections to the American whatsoever, didn't even think about seeing it coming.

The crazy-ass American who had connections with a certain bat-shit insane Russian had kicked their asses. How Alfred had done was anyone's guess. After all, one against three were some pretty insane odds, yet it seems that an overprotective Alfred really was a force to be reckoned with. Somehow, he had actually managed to thrash their asses. Like, literally kicked all of their asses and then when they were down and beaten, he took a picture as a souvenir.

They were all left looking even worse than before. Gilbert's nose had to be snapped back into place which hurt like a motherfucker, Antonio's tongue needed seven stitches (which he kept messing with because they 'felt weird') and Francis had spent the majority of the afternoon with an ice-pack on his face.

Second of all, Gilbert lost Gilbird. He lost his baby the same day he got beat up by the All American Prick. He had considered Alfred to be the culprit, until he realised that the American really wasn't that smart enough to steal his bird. With no suspects and no clues, Gilbert was left with the conclusion that Gilbird was simply lost. That led to a sleepless night in which Gilbert kept his friends awake, just in case Gilbird came back.

He didn't.

Nonetheless, Gilbert refused to go to sleep and his fatigue also made him slightly short-tempered. Which wasn't very good for his friends, as they were the ones who had to bear the full brunt of Gilbert's frustrations.

"_Mon cher_...please? I have never stayed up this late. I can feel the bags under my eyes already!" Francis complained. Gilbert threw a pillow at him.

"No. We are to wait until Gilbird comes back!" Gilbert snapped. Antonio yawned and rubbed his eyes.

"Why does he have to come back. Why don't you go out there and look for him?" the Spaniard asked. Gilbert perked up, the idea having never formed in his head before now. Francis groaned and threw the pillow at Antonio's head.

"Don't give him ideas. And we are not going out looking for a _bird_ at _three_ in the morning!" Francis hissed, first to Antonio and then to Gilbert. The albino pouted.

"But what if he's just out there, waiting for me to find him! He'd probably see me as the World's Worst _Mutti_ or something," the albino complained, his red eyes burning due to lack of sleep. Antonio scoffed.

"You were never this concerned when our own pets went missing," the Spaniard muttered. Gilbert groaned and then turned to face the brunet, his expression twisted into one of disbelief.

"_Mein Gott_! Are you still not over that fucking octopus?" Gilbert asked incredulously. The Spaniard threw the pillow that Francis had thrown at him, at Gilbert.

"No, I'm not! It's your fault he escaped and yet I never made you stay up all night to find him!" Antonio said, huffing a little. Gilbert rolled his eyes.

"First off, I'm pretty sure he was an illegal pet. Second off, he wasn't even a cool illegal pet. Third off, you named him Paul. What the hell kind of freak names an octopus 'Paul'? It's fucking stupid. Fourth off, he's probably happier wherever he is now. Be it an ocean, heaven, or someone's dinner plate," Gilbert explained, gaining two more pillows to the face. Antonio scowled.

"You are _so_ mean! What about my turtles? Are they happier in another place?" he asked, his green eyes narrow with annoyance. Gilbert shrugged.

"No idea. But anywhere must be better than being around your Italian brat. You do realise that he was planning on selling them to the restaurant down the street, right?" Gilbert asked, rolling his eyes. Antonio growled.

"Don't talk about my Lovi like that! He's not a brat!" he declared.

"Yeah sure...and he's still _your_ Lovi as well," Gilbert retorted, his sarcasm thick and obvious. Antonio let out a small scream in frustration before turning away from Gilbert in his bed and pulling the covers over his head. Gilbert frowned. "Hey! Don't go to sleep! You still have to help me wait for my pet!"

Francis sighed. "_Mon cher_, you can wait for you pet on your own! I really don't care about the matter anymore. Just like how you didn't care when you lost the rabbit that I'd bought!" he spat. Gilbert blinked, absolutely shocked at the mutiny he was facing from his friends tonight.

"What rabbit?" he asked, quirking a brow. Francis glared at him.

"It was small, baby bunny. White with black ears. Cutest thing ever. Don't you remember?" Francis prompted, Gilbert just blinked.

"I do!" Antonio called out from under his covers. Francis allowed a small smile to form as he glanced over, before wiping it off to face Gilbert again.

"Uh...maybe," Gilbert said slowly.

Francis scowled. "You should! You stole that bunny from me and then gave it to Arthur's brothers in exchange for some beer!" he shrieked. Gilbert nodded, finally understanding where the Frenchman was coming from.

"What's your point? That was ages ago anyway!" Gilbert said, annoyed with his friends and their habits of bringing up the past.

"The point is that the bunny was a birthday present for Arthur. He adores rabbits, almost as much as he adores unicorns -_and don't you dare laugh!_-, and you ruined everything! I looked for that rabbit everywhere and you refused to even tell me what you did. I hadn't known what happened until_ mon mignon_ came to me, crying his eyes out! Apparently he had witnessed his brothers killing a poor bunny for their dinner later that night! A rabbit that sounded exactly like the one that I had bought for him!" Francis raved, his blue eyes looking rather crazed in the dim light.

Gilbert shuffled away from him. "Okay! I suck at being a good friend! What do you want from me!" he demanded. He could distinctly hear Antonio's giggles from the across the room. Francis huffed and flopped down on his bed.

"You're a very good friend, _cher_, but not when you're like this. Toni and I have forgiven you for many things in the past, but if you do not let us sleep, I fear we shall not be able to forgive you for this one," Francis sighed, reaching for his eye-mask and slipping it on. Gilbert pouted.

"Fine," he muttered. "I'll wait for him myself. Don't need you two waiting with me. I'll be fine. On my own. See if I care."

"Gilbert! Be quiet!" came the cries of his two roommates. The albino sniggered and ignored them. He could stay awake and wait for Gilbird to come back. He could wait the entire night and then some, if needed be.

He was Gilbert fucking Beilschmidt and he could do _anything_.

X-x-X-x-X

Okay. So he couldn't exactly do anything.

But he could do anything _better_ than his friends seeing as he had managed to stay up later than his two other friends. Who were still slightly pissed off with only getting around three hours of sleep. Gilbert didn't see the problem as he was used to only getting a few hours of sleep in. He could thank all of his last minute assignments for training him up. However, he was annoyed with the fact that Antonio kept falling asleep in the shower. Stupid boy would actually drown one day if it wasn't for him.

And Francis was practically glued to the mirror, trying to find some concealer to cover up the bags under his eyes. Gilbert wondered why he had ever decided to associate himself with two such idiots. Although, in all fairness, they probably asked themselves the same question.

"C'mon Frenchy! You can finish putting your mask on later!" Gilbert declared, shaking his head as Francis cursed him in French. Then he glanced over to see Antonio falling asleep on his feet, whilst trying to put his clothes on. Shaking his head in disapproval, the albino marched over to the sleepy Spaniard and shook him awake.

"G-Gilbert...you're so mean. And you can't yell at us for being sleepy! It is your fault after all," Antonio yawned, rubbing his eyes slowly. Narrowing his eyes, Gilbert watched Antonio attempt to button up his shirt and sighed in exasperation. The Spaniard kept missing the correct holes for his buttons, causing his shirt to bunch up ridiculously.

"Fuck it Toni!" Gilbert muttered and swatted the Spaniard's hands away. "I'll fucking do it!"

Dressing the Spaniard quickly, and with a disturbing amount of skill, Gilbert turned to face Francis still in front of the mirror. Placing his hands on his hips, Gilbert growled and once more questioned why he actually hung out with these two idiots. Francis' eyes flickered over to where he was standing and the French boy hummed in amusement.

"Please don't scowl Gilbert, you'll get awful wrinkles," he commented, getting a growl of impatience in return. Gilbert grabbed Antonio by the tie and then yanked Francis away from the mirror by the back of his collar and then proceeded to drag them out of the apartment quickly. He slammed the door shut behind him, locked it and then proceeded to drag his friends away.

"The only reason I'll get wrinkles is due to you two! I don't get why you spend two hours in front of a fucking mirror Francis! You look fucking gorgeous as always! And Jesus Christ Toni, you really need to learn how to dress yourself in the morning! It's not fucking funny anymore and it wasn't even funny to begin with!" Gilbert hissed, as he pulled his friends down the hallway.

Francis perked up and smiled sweetly. "You think I'm gorgeous?"

Antonio laughed and grinned at Gilbert. "You enjoy mothering us really Gil~!"

The albino just cursed his stupid friends, ducking his head to hide his small smile. "C'mon idiots, or we'll be late again. Ludwig said he wouldn't pay for my accommodation anymore if I get another detention for being late!" he said, swiftly switching the topic of conversation.

"But you get a new detention everyday!" Antonio said, his eyebrows scrunched up in confusion. Gilbert threw his head back and cackled.

"He said detentions for being _late_. Ludwig never said anything about detentions for being disruptive in class. If he meant those sorts of detentions then he really should have been more specific!" Gilbert stated smartly.

Francis just sighed as they left their dormitory block. "Oh _cher_, the rebel in you is truly...enthralling," he purred, reaching up to stroke Gilbert's cheek. The albino smacked the hand away and glowered at the blond.

"Sexy. I am sexy. Not enthralling. I will accept sexy, gorgeous or hot. Not enthralling. Don't start labeling me with your romantic shit!" he commanded, giving the French boy a cold glare. Francis just shrugged and leant over to peck him on the cheek.

"Either way _cher_, you never fail to get my blood boiling," he purred wrapping his arms around Gilbert's waist, a playful glint in his eyes. Antonio giggled as he watched them mess around with each other.

"Get! Off! Me! French! Fry!" Gilbert cried, trying to escape Francis' clinging limbs. The blond boy just pouted and turned away with a huff.

"Obviously you don't appreciate a handsome man like myself! I would feel unloved if it weren't for the many beautiful models waiting for me in the auditorium~!" Francis said, winking at his friends. Gilbert cursed him under his breath and scowled.

"Whatever. They can keep you if it means no longer being groped around here," he muttered, shoving his hands into his pockets. Francis just quirked a brow and smirked.

"Are you jealous? Because it's totally understandable if you are~!" he sang, dodging in time to escape Gilbert's punch. Antonio just watched and smiled to himself, until he caught sight of the large clock on the Academy's main building.

"Hey, I'll see you two later, okay? My coach said he'd kill me if I was late again," he said, waving his friends farewell. Francis blew him a kiss and winked. Gilbert smacked the French-fancy over the head and nodded to the Spaniard.

"See you later Toni!" he called and dragged Francis away from him.

Antonio grinned at his friend's antics and started to jog towards the changing rooms. He honestly didn't know what he would do without his friends. Or football. Or Lovi—ah. He didn't have Lovino anymore.

Oh. God. What the hell was he going to do without Lovino in his life anymore? Antonio paused in his steps, his eyes widening as the gravity of the situation finally hit him. Who was going to yell at him when he got hurt in a game? Who was going to yell at him when he kissed them? Who was going to yell at him for the sake of yelling at someone?

Oh...God. He was so alone. So, so alon—

"Heey~! Antonio, can I ask you something~?" called out one of the few voices that made Antonio freeze and sigh dreamily. But now, it made him freeze and wince as the accent sent shivers up his spine. Antonio turned around and gave Feliciano a weak grin. Seeing the twin of his beloved Lovi hurt him. Especially after what he had said to him...

"_Buenos días_, Feliciano. What would you like?" Antonio said, feeling slightly chirpier at the sight of Feliciano's infectious grin.

"A-Ah...how are you? I mean...after what happened with you and my brother?" Feliciano asked, biting his lip slightly. Antonio flinched at the question slightly, before letting out a forced laugh.

"I'm fine. Or, as fine as I'll ever be without my beautiful Lovi~! H-How is he, by the way? If you've seen him, that is," he stammered, averting his eyes as he spoke. Feliciano blinked and gave him a sad smile.

"Ehh~! Big brother is okay, I guess. But he's not happy. I think he misses you," he said slowly, glancing down to the ground. Antonio looked at him in shock and then grinned weakly.

"D-Does he now...that makes me happy to know. Is...is there anything else? It's just that I'm kinda tight on time and—" Antonio began, before Feliciano interrupted him quickly.

"Ah! No...I have another question, if you don't mind," he said quickly. Antonio blinked and then shrugged.

"Of course, what is it?" he asked, smiling at how flustered Feliciano seemed to be getting. The younger Italian was incredibly cute but he didn't have the fire or the feisty attitude that Lovino had. It made the Italian different and challenging and Antonio had adored challenges. He never really liked them nowadays; they just gave him headaches and made him feel ill.

"Umm...well, it's not a very good question to say out loud..." Feliciano murmured, rocking back and to on his feet. He glanced around the Spaniard and spotted his brother sneaking Antonio's water bottle out of his bag. Oh, Ludwig would _kill_ him for going along with his brother's insane schemes...if he ever finds out, that is. Feliciano bit his lip; of course Ludwig would find out! The German always finds everything out eventually.

"Eh...Feli? Are you okay? You look a little pale," Antonio said, concerned at how white the Italian was becoming. Feliciano shook his head quickly of such bad thoughts and gave the Spaniard a big smile.

"Ah, I'm fine...but, I do have to ask...what did you say to my brother?" Feliciano asked, playing with a loose string on his shirt. Antonio froze slightly, his eyes widening with horror. If Feliciano knew what Antonio had told Lovino...then the whole world would just blow up! Although, if Feliciano was asking him about it, did that mean that Lovino hadn't told him what Antonio had said?

"I-It's nothing. Really...it was just some horrible, angry things that people say without meaning to," Antonio stated, waving off Feliciano's question. The cute Italian bit his lip and glanced up nervously.

"It...wasn't about me was it? A-About...you know," Feliciano stammered, his curl drooping slightly at the thought of Lovino knowing what had happened between Antonio and him. The Spaniard blinked and then stepped back in horror.

"N-No! Of course I didn't! What makes you think I did?" he cried nervously, his eyes flickering about and avoiding Feliciano's line of vision. The young Italian frowned at his reaction and glanced behind the Spaniard to see Lovino shaking up Antonio's bottle. His brother was seemingly oblivious to their conversation.

"I don't know. He just gives me these looks sometimes and they make me feel so guilty and I don't like feeling guilty 'cause then it makes me feel sick and if I feel sick then I can't kiss Ludwig because he might get sick as well and then we'll both be sick and then I'll feel guilty all over again for making him sick and the—" Feliciano babbled, only stopping when Antonio brought a finger up to his lips.

"It's probably nothing, I'm sure. I definitely didn't say anything though," he said nicely. "But really Feli, I have to go now. Training starts in five minutes!"

Feliciano nodded, watching discreetly as Lovino slipped Antonio's bottle back into his bag. He didn't know what was in it and he didn't want to know either.

"Well...bye then! Have fun~!" Feliciano called as Antonio turned and headed to the changing rooms, completely unaware of the horrors that awaited him.

X-x-X-x-X

That night none of them were happy. It was safe to say that Gilbert was the unhappiest as he had spent the past five minutes ranting about Matthew and how unawesome he was. The albino had come to the conclusion that maybe, just maybe, their ex-boyfriends were the ones to pull this prank on them. They were the only culprits in mind and they were the only ones who had a legitimate reason for wanting to embarrass them all.

Francis and Antonio just watched him, blinking and gaping in shock as their friend spat and cursed.

"Fuck him! Fuck his big violet eyes! Fuck those cute over-sized hoodies he wears! Fuck his little hair-curl! Fuck the maple-syrup pancakes that he makes for me! Just fucking fuck him!" Gilbert snapped, his eyes darkening with thinly veiled anger and sadness. The other two boys sighed as they watched their friend fall apart in front of them.

They felt like they had stepped into the Twilight Zone.

"Ah, Gilbert...are you okay?" Antonio asked, only to get a pillow to the face in return. Francis frowned and placed his hands on his hips.

"That's not very nice. Honestly Gilbert, I don't know how you've come to this conclusion! How could they have spiked all of our drinks? And even if they did, I suppose we did ask for it...it's hardly anything to get so upset about," the blond lectured, walking to sit down next to the albino.

"But Matthew doesn't do shit like that! He's sweet and innocent and quiet and yeah sure, maybe not when he's playing hockey, but he just doesn't do crap like this! This is fucking Mattie we're talking about!" Gilbert ranted, throwing a pillow at Francis for the hell of it.

Antonio cocked his head to the side and quirked a brow. "But we don't really know it's them, do we? I mean...this could be just some sort of freaky accident that just happened," he said, the very definition of optimism. Gilbert snorted and threw him a scathing glare.

"An accident? Maybe with Frenchy, yeah, he was surrounded by awesome models. Me? Are you trying to say I got turned on by the thoughts of being beaten up by Ivan? And what about you...did you suddenly realise how hot your coach looked in his gym shorts?" he asked sarcastically. Antonio flinched and felt a lump build up in his throat.

Hearing the Spaniard whimper, Gilbert felt a wave of guilt crash into him like a tsunami. He opened up his arms and groaned as a blur of Spanish boy flew into his arms. "Y-You can be s-so mean sometimes," Antonio murmured, stifling his sniffles badly.

"Yeah, I know. I'm sorry," the albino stated through gritted teeth. Francis smiled at the scene and wished he had his camera with him.

"I hope your also sorry for not telling us about Ivan," the French boy said, rising a brow at the albino before him. Gilbert averted his eyes and shifted uncomfortably, keeping an arm around the Spaniard in his lap.

"Yeah, yeah," he muttered. "S'not like I'm ever doing it again." Gilbert knew that he probably wouldn't do it again. And if he did, it would be in the far distant future.

"Good. Come on then, _mes amis_, let's go to bed. We'll wake up tomorrow and everything will be alright again," Francis said cheerfully.

X-x-X-x-X

The night of the UV Pen Incident, the Trio never really knew what had hit them until they had arrived at the club.

Then shit hit the fan. Hard.

After the disastrous attempt of finding out why their ex-boyfriends were acting like psycho-fucking-maniacs, the Trio retreated back to their apartment quickly. There were a few scuffles on the way up, including a few threats to turn Gilbert in to the police, threats to cut Francis' penis off and Antonio? He bumped into Bella's brother who really didn't like him all that much. Gilbert had kept quiet, already having a run in with the guy once, but Antonio tried and failed to defend himself. He also found out what was written on his ass and he really didn't like that.

When they finally reached their apartment, they all breathed a sigh of relief and all agreed to burn their clothes straight away. First, they inspected all of their other clothes and once they deemed that they were safe, they promptly burned their outfits in the bathroom sink and swore to never speak of the incident again.

All was well.

...until something caught the corner of Gilbert's eye that is.

"What the _fuck_ is on my headboard?"

"Looks like a penis, _cher._"

"Really Frenchy? I never would have guessed!"

"Sarcasm does not suit you..."

"Eh? That looks like Lovi's handwriting~!"

"..."

"...and how the hell does he know how big my dick is?"

"_Cher_, are you saying that you're only five centi—"

"No, I am not! _Mein Gott_!"

"Are you sure, because I don't think you're five metres eith—"

"Shut up Toni! God! I make the comment _once_ whilst drunk and now I'm stuck with it for the rest of my life!"

"It's okay, _mon_ Tonio, he does not mean it. He's just upset because he found out that Matthew stole his _bébé_~!"

"Fuck off and die! All of you! I hate you all!"

X-x-X-x-X

When they emerged from their rooms on the day of the 'Hair Dye' incident, they found themselves at loss with all the attention they were receiving. Antonio was quite happy pretending that everything was a dream and Gilbert was quite happy with knocking anyone out who had something bad to say...

Francis took everything in stride and felt like he could handle all the insults thrown at him. Until the incident in the hallway proved him wrong.

It had started out innocently enough. With drawn on eyebrows and fluffy pink, Francis had looked quite feminine. Or at the very least, more feminine than usual. He had been busy getting out his artwork out of his locker, specifically the drawings of the newest dresses he had been working on for his fashion show, when he was whistled at.

Specifically, wolf-whistled at. Francis sighed, he had been getting sexual comments all day. At first, he just got used to it, but now...now he was just fed up. He was tired, he was stressed and according to Gilbert, he also looked like a candy-floss stick.

Francis turned to give the whistler a piece of his mind when he was confronted with three older boys. He blinked and then slammed his locker shut, an annoyed look upon his face.

"May I help you three?" he asked, as politely as one could be when at the end of their tether.

The tallest one grinned and leant in closer to him with a vicious leer. "Yeah, you can help us. You can tell us how much one night with you would cost," he purred, reaching out to curl a lock of Francis' pink hair around his finger. The French boy stepped back, flinching at how blunt the guy was being. Francis couldn't remember his name, but did recall Arthur referring to him as a 'plebeian'. Whatever that meant...

"Are you insinuating that I am a some kind of prostitute?" he asked, shocked and horrified by what was happening. And why was no one else around? Why wasn't anyone here to see this?

The guy just shrugged and gave him a lazy smile. "I don't know, are you? You certainly look like it," he said, causing Francis to sigh in exasperation. Of all the people to sexually harass him, he always ended up with the idiots.

"Oh really? And how many other male prostitutes have you met with pink hair?" he asked, rolling his eyes at the stupidity of it all.

The Plebeian glared down at him and snarled. "I don't think you're in any position to be giving me that tone," he growled, causing Francis to falter slightly.

"I can give you any tone I wish!" Francis snapped back, clutching his artwork to his chest. The Plebeian snorted and then snatched Francis' artwork away, throwing it to the floor.

Francis opened his mouth to protest, but he was slammed against the lockers before he could. "Ack!_ Casse-toi_! Let go of me!" he cried, squirming as the older boy leaned in.

"C'mere, we only want a word with you. Stop fucking struggling!" he hissed, trying to control Francis' body with his own. His two friends shuffled closer, looking out for any signs of teachers or other students. To Francis' despair, no one turned up.

"_Fiche moi le paix_!" he spat, trying hard to escape the situation he was in.

"That pretty language of yours will only piss us off more! Shut the hell up!" the Plebeian snapped, slamming Francis against the locker once more. The French boy whimpered and hugged himself, already feeling the bruises form on his back.

"What do you want?" he said quietly, glaring down at the floor. The guy just chuckled and leant in, grasping Francis' hips hard. The blond automatically bucked and tried to wriggle his way out of the grip.

The Plebeian ducked down to his ear and smirked. "You. I want you. If I can't have you, then I'll guess I'll have to go after your pretty British boyfriend. He doesn't look like a girl like you, but fuck do his eyes look pretty. Bet they'd look even prettier whilst crying," he whispered venomously into Francis' ear.

Francis' eyes widened, horrified at the very thought of Arthur being hurt in such a way and started to scream. "_Ferme la bouche_! Bastards! Let me go! _Fous le camps et morte_!" he ranted, not even sure what language was coming from his tongue.

The Plebeian grinned darkly and reached down to grasp at Francis between his legs. The blond boy cried out and reacted before he could think. He kneed the guy in between his legs. Once. Twice. Thrice. The Plebeian fell to the floor in pain, moaning and cursing. His two friends rushed to his side instantly.

Francis felt his humiliation burn on his face. He needed to get away from this place and _now_. With his eyes burning with unshed tears, he gave the other two a fleeting look, before hurrying off to the Art Block.

Francis stifled his sobs and roughly wiped his eyes. He vowed not to tell the other two about this incident. Antonio would just get upset and cry, and then get mad and go psycho-crazy on everyone. Gilbert would just go straight to the psycho-crazy bit.

Instead, he flipped his hair back and swallowed back the lump in his throat. He was fabulous and he could do anything.

Any-fucking-thing.

When the day finally ended, Francis came back to his room to see Antonio shaking under his covers in distress. Forcing a smile onto his face, Francis perched on the end of the Spaniard's bed and sighed.

"What's wrong, _mon cher_?" he asked, poking the lump slightly. The lump just quivered again, but didn't answer. A snort from the other side of the room drew Francis' attention away. Gilbert was hanging upside down off his bed, whilst reading a book entitled: _So You Want To Kill Your Ex-Boyfriend! _Francis wrinkled his nose at the book's title and frowned. "You better not be thinking of murdering _mon petit_ Matthew!" he said warningly. Francis found Matthew to be downright adorable and always felt slightly guilty when he remembered that he was the one who dared Gilbert to ask the Canadian out.

Gilbert scoffed. "Wouldn't dream of it. Mattie's way too, you know...anyway, this is for that Italian fucker!" he growled. Francis furrowed his brows and turned to the trembling Spaniard under the covers.

"Why? What has that_ petit merde_ done now?" Francis asked. "Besides the obvious, naturally."

"Oh, nothing more than what you already know," Gilbert said, looking very interested in his book. Francis clicked his tongue in impatience.

"So why is he crying?" the Frenchman asked.

"'Cause he's just realised that he's not dreaming," Gilbert said, sniggering slightly. Francis sighed and then yanked the covers off Antonio's body. The Spaniard yelped and backed up into the wall. He hadn't been crying, rather he looked more disturbed than anything.

"How did he figure it out?" Francis asked, taking in the horrified state of his dyed Spanish friend. Gilbert shrugged and rolled onto his stomach. He tossed his book to the side and smirked.

"No idea. The only words I can get out of him are: 'bite', 'coach', 'tomato', 'pompoms', 'bench' and 'Lovi'," Gilbert listed them off on his fingers. "I'm pretty sure your mind can fill in the blanks. Mine certainly could. Doesn't bring up the awesomest of mental images, it has to be said."

Francis blinked and frowned, shaking his head with a sigh. "Honestly, what on earth possessed you to do such a thing?" he asked, reaching out to tuck a lock of Antonio's hair behind his ear. The Spaniard shrugged.

"Thought I was dreaming," he muttered, burying his nose into his arms. Francis smiled softly and shifted closer to the Spaniard. Gilbert's senses went on high alert as Francis got close to Antonio, but they quickly cooled off when he realised that Francis was only just stroking his hair. Feeling like he could trust the French boy for an hour, Gilbert stretched and jumped off the bed.

"Well, I'm off to wash this crap out of my hair. Be good whilst I'm gone," he said cheerily, with only Francis hearing the underlying threat in his last sentence. Antonio just tilted his head to the side.

"We're always good!" he insisted, with Francis grinning beside him.

"Yes, _mon ami_, we're always good," he purred, nuzzling Antonio's hair softly. The Spaniard giggled again and squirmed to get away.

Gilbert's eye just twitched. "Yeah. 'Course you are. I'll be back soon. Very soon. _With something very sharp and deadly just in case_!" he hissed the last part to Francis especially, with Antonio ignoring him completely in favour of getting away from Francis' tickling hands.

Francis just waved him off, watching as the orange-haired boy sneered and stalked out of the room, slamming the door shut behind him. A predatory grin curled across his lips as they were left alone. He glanced down at the Spaniard in his arms and chuckled.

Francis adored playing with Antonio and never counted it as cheating. He even asked Arthur permission to do as and all the Brit was roll his eyes and make Francis swear that he would never overdo it. And he upheld that promise and always knew when to stop. Besides, the whole idea was just based on teasing Antonio and seeing how far he could go. It wasn't like Arthur didn't flirt with Alfred on a daily basis, because he did. But they'd never let it go too far, 'cause everyone and their dog knew how deeply in love Arthur and Francis were with each other.

Francis scoffed; if Arthur still loved him that is. Either way, the French boy still refused to go too far with Antonio. The last time he did, ended with him getting two black eyes and a broken nose, courtesy of Gilbert, Arthur and Lovino. Francis Bonnefoy was a guy who always learnt from his mistakes.

"Well, well, _mon petit_~! We're all alone in this big room," he purred, nuzzling Antonio's ear slightly.

"Um, well, of course we are. Gilbert has just left and all," Antonio pointed out, feeling rather confused as to why Francis was pointing out the obvious. The Frenchman just ignored him.

"And it's so quiet and lonely in here," the blond continued, slipping his hands down to Antonio's hips, feeling the bones jutting out slightly.

"It's not really quiet, because you're talking. It's not really lonely either, 'cause we're both here," Antonio said, not getting what Francis was getting at. The blond blinked and shook his head slightly. Obviously, he'd have to be a bit more...blunt.

"How about...we play a game, _cher_?" he asked, his hands already underneath Antonio's shirt. Damn...the Spaniard had wonderfully, lovely abs.

"A game?" Antonio blinked, cocking his head to the side. "What kind of game?"

Francis smirked, his eyes going all heavy-hooded and sexy. "A...special game," he purred, his voice was deep and rich. It was a voice he used to make Arthur's knees tremble and caused the Brit to shiver in delight. Antonio just blinked at him, confused.

"Uh...I don't know..." he said, inching away from the blond. Francis pouted as Antonio tried to wriggle away from him and loomed over the brunet with a fake hurt expression.

"My Toni does not wish to play a game with me? How horrible," he pouted, his eyes watery with crocodile tears. Antonio frowned and sat up straight, knocking Francis back slightly.

"No! I would like to play a game with you...it's just that Gilbert said I wasn't to play special games with you anymore!" he insisted, his eyes wide at the prospect of not only being a horrible boyfriend, but also a horrible friend as well. However, he didn't receive any reassurances from Francis, as the French boy seemed a bit too preoccupied with his own thoughts.

_Gilbert...ruins all my fun...must die...horrid...fun sucker...doesn't suck all that well if you were take the literal approach...bastard..._

"Francis? Am I horrid friend? Francis? Please tell me? Francis! Stop making that face! It's scaring me! Francis!"

X-x-X-x-X

Unfortunately for Gilbert, no matter how hard he scrubbed and tried, he couldn't get the colour out of his hair. Maybe bleach would work...

Unfortunately for Francis, this meant that he had returned early and caught him trying to 'play games' with Antonio. Again.

It didn't end well.

Currently, Gilbert and Antonio were lounging in their apartment. Gilbert was surrounded by bottles of bleach whilst Antonio was surrounded by pieces of paper. On the pieces of paper were phone numbers. From girls and boys. All of which who had the honor of biting him. Even the dinner-lady had slipped him his number, which unnerved Antonio to an unending degree.

The Spaniard wondered if it would be too mean and harsh to burn all of the numbers without telling the owners first, or whether he should inform the owners that whilst he was flattered, his heart belonged to a fiery little Italian who currently hated him. The Spaniard was severely puzzled.

"Um, Gilbert? Can I ask you something? Well, two somethings actually," he called across the room. Gilbert was busy picking up different types of bleach and examining them closely.

"Yes, what is it?" he said. Antonio licked his lips nervously and cocked his head to the side.

"W-Well...I was wondering. You know I have all these numbers...well, should I burn them now? Or should I tell the people that they belong to first and then burn them? Which one would be nicer?" he asked, flicking the odd phone number about as he spoke. Gilbert paused in his bleach inspections and burst out laughing.

"Oh Toni...you never fail to make me smile!" he declared, gaining a delighted grin out of the Spaniard in response. "Just burn the fuckers, no one will care. Here, use my lighter," he said, dropping a bottle of bleach to reach into his bag to find his lighter.

"Thanks Gil...ah! Also, why are you inspecting bleach? And where did you get all of them from?" the Spaniard asked, as he caught the light that Gilbert tossed to him. The albino who is no longer albino, blinked and grinned.

"I am inspecting them to see which one will get my hair back to its natural sexy colour. As to where I got thirteen bottles of bleach from...well, let's just say in my past life, I was a fucking ninja~!" Gilbert declared with his hands on his hips. Antonio chuckled as he burned the phone numbers one by one.

Their conversation was cut short as the dorm door swung open to reveal Francis. He strolled in, smirking widely at his two friends.

"Apparently they want to 'talk' to us," he purred, sitting on Gilbert's bed. The bleach inspector blinked, confused as to what the hell Francis was on about, before it clicked in his mind. A small, evil smirk curled on his lips as he sat on his bed leaning towards the French boy.

"Talk, eh? What did they say?" he asked eagerly, shuffling in close as Francis pulled out his phone. Antonio paused in his phone-number massacre and walked over to them, leaning over their shoulders to read Arthur's text.

"'We need to talk'? Well, that's short and sweet," Antonio commented, cocking his head to the side.

Francis nodded. "I thought so too. But Arthur is never one to beat around the bush, I suppose," he said, as he stroked the screen of his phone gently. Gilbert scoffed and sat back.

"Did you text back?" he asked, quirking a brow. Francis quirked a brow right back at him. Quirky, quirky, quirk.

"But of course! I told him that I would love to talk to him!" he declared, winking at the red-eyed boy before him. "I assume he also means you two as well. It appears he's become quite the mouthpiece for the other two."

Antonio snorted and smirked. "You mean he's a bit of a mouthy bastard?"

Francis smacked the brunet on the arm gently and frowned. "Don't start insulting him _cher_, you can be just as bad as he."

The Spaniard stuck his tongue out and opened his mouth to retort, but the vibrating of Francis' phone made him pause and glance down. Francis opened up the text and read it with a grin: _I honestly don't care where we talk, FROG, as long as we talk! And don't you dare call me your 'cher' either!_

"Ah, _mon_ _petit_ has such an interesting style of flirting, _non_?" Francis asked, cocking his head to the side. Gilbert just rolled his eyes and snatched his phone of him. "Excuse me, but what do you think you are doing with my phone?" the French boy asked. The red-eyed boy just held up a finger and grinned.

"Telling him exactly where we're going to meet. And trust me, this will be awesome!" he declared, earning a sigh from the blond.

"Famous last words, _cher_, famous last words..." Francis sighed. Antonio leaned over to Gilbert and hummed.

"Ah, where did you say we were going to meet them?" he asked, feeling rather unnerved when Gilbert turned to grin at him. He genuinely looked rather demonic when he smiled like that.

"'The Boombox'. It's public, it's noisy and we're less likely to be victimised again!" Gilbert declared. Francis laughed shortly.

"Victimised? Such a long word for you _cher_," he commented, earning a middle-finger in his face in return.

"Fuck off Frenchy! Trust me, I know the manager quite well. He'll make sure nothing shitty goes down," the albino stated, his attention diverted to the phone in his lap as it vibrated once more: _The Boombox? Are you fucking insane! Why would you choose to go to such a place? Idiots!_

Gilbert read the message out and grinned. Francis pouted as Gilbert replied to the text eagerly, a dark grin on his face. "Fuck me,_ he's_ actually asking me if _we're_ insane! How priceless is that?" the albino scoffed as he typed out his reply.

"What are you typing back?" Antonio asked, cocking his head cutely. Francis snatched the phone off Gilbert and scanned the screen quickly.

"You are so very mature, _cher_. Ahem, 'if we are insane, then it's only you to blame unicorn-fucker'. Gilbert, that is positively awful and I will not have you send this to Arthur from my phone!" Francis declared, but his reflexes were too slow and Gilbert managed to wrestle the phone from him.

Clicking send, Gilbert than switched the phone off and threw it across the room, where it landed safely on Antonio's bed. "There. It's too late now, get over it!" he beamed and then stood up to grab his jacket. Francis scowled at him and wondered if it would be too late to fix the damage that had been caused. Then he realised that his boyfriend was the World Record Grudge-Holder and decided it was best to leave it for now.

"Where are you going?" Antonio asked, watching as Gilbert positively vibrated with giddiness.

"I'm fucking off to 'The Boombox' to talk to Mathias. Wanna come?" he asked, opening their dormitory door. Francis and Antonio looked to each other and then shrugged.

"Why not _cher_? After all, Mathias is quite cute."

X-x-X-x-X

They arrived at 'The Boombox' two hours before it opened.

In typical 'Gilbert-fashion', the orange-haired albino slammed the door open to Mathias' office and sauntered straight in. Mathias was sitting behind his desk, with Lukas leaning over his shoulder. Berwald was by the window, which overlooked the club's dance-floor and Tino was currently trying to escape his bear-hug. Meanwhile, Emil was sitting in corner, wondering why the hell he couldn't have been born a puffin.

"Oi, bastard! We want to make a little deal with you!" Gilbert said, folding his arms. Mathias blinked from behind his desk and grinned, looking very much like he was the Don of his own personal mafia.

Until he opened his mouth, that is.

"No _way_! What the hell happened to you! You look like a fluffy piece of candy-floss~! I didn't know they _did_ them in orange though...hey, Lukas! Do they make candy-floss in orange flavour, and if they do, can we go get some after this~?" Mathias asked, bouncing in his chair and looking a little excited at the prospect of orange-flavoured candy-floss. Gilbert swore to used the bleach that night.

Lukas just sighed and flicked his stupid Dane on the ear.

"What, is that a no then?" Mathias asked, quirking a brow in confusion.

"What gives you the idea that it could be a yes?" Lukas asked. Mathias just shrugged and grinned, before turning his attention back to the intruding Trio.

"So, how did your hair get like that? It looks pretty awesome!" Mathias declared, giving Gilbert the thumbs up. Gilbert just gave him a wry smile and sat down in the chair opposite the tall Dane.

"We have three fucked up ex-boyfriends. You know, as you do," Gilbert commented, waving his hand slightly. Mathias' eyes widened, and he turned to look at Lukas in horror.

"You'd never do that to me, would you? I mean, if we ever broke up?" he asked, looking quite concerned. Lukas however, just shrugged and looked away.

"What makes you think we're going out?" he asked, causing Mathias to gape at him slightly.

"You mean...we're not going out?" he asked, furrowing his brows in confusion. Mathias could distinctly hear Emil curse them both from the corner, but ignored him in favour of the brother who, he personally thought, was more important.

Lukas frowned. "Stupid. Of course we're not going out. No one with even half a brain would go out with you," he stated coldly. Mathias blinked, his bottom lip trembling. Gilbert muttered and shook his head in exasperation. Francis was torn between comforting Mathias...and comforting Mathias like _that_. Antonio just wanted to stroke Emil's puffin.

Tino looked up from where he was being smothered and huffed. "That's a bit harsh, don't you think?" he said and looked up to Berwald expectantly.

The Swede just glanced down and shrugged. "N't h'rsh en'ugh," he murmured, before placing a loving kiss on Tino's head. The Finnish man gasped, his face going red and he desperately tried to wriggle out of Berwald's embrace.

"W-What was _that_? D-Don't do that in p-public!" he scolded, squirming and shaking his head quickly. Berwald quirked a brow.

"C'n I do i' in pr'vate?" he asked and for those who knew him well, there was a hint of amusement in his voice. Tino choked and started to push Berwald away.

"N-N-No! Never! Put me down now!" he cried, his humiliation reaching its limits.

Francis and Antonio glanced to each other in amusement at the scene before them. Mathias was pawing at Lukas, Lukas was choking Mathias, Tino was trying to escape Berwald's grip, Berwald was just standing there as if Tino's attempts didn't affect him and Emil was just sitting in the corner, wondering if it was possible to disown himself. Gilbert didn't find it as amusing.

He sighed loudly and slammed his hands on the table, silencing everyone in the room. "Enough with this fucking soap-opera-shit! We're meeting up with our three psycho ex-boyfriends tonight! Here, at your club! We would very much appreciate it, if you were to ensure our safety!" he hissed, his red-eyes glinting dangerously.

"Ensure your...safety? What the hell do you mean by that?" Mathias asked, his voice sounding quite hoarse. Gilbert placed his hands on his hips and grinned evilly.

"We want to be sure that whatever goes down tonight, won't affect our sexy physical states. We would like you to keep at eye on them and make sure they don't cause us anymore shit, okay?" Gilbert explained. Mathias blinked.

"Eh? But how? What do you want us to do?" he asked, thoroughly confused. Gilbert briefly wondered how someone in charge of such a successful business could be so slow.

"Kick them out, bar them, I don't give a fuck! Just make sure that you can prevent them from hurting us!" he snapped. Mathias held his hands up in mock surrender.

"Alright, no need to snap...just, why can't you do it? I thought you were the 'Prussian Ass-Kicker'? Or did Ivan steal your title," the Dane teased, earning himself one hell of a death glare.

"Fuck off. We would deal with them ourselves, but we can't," Gilbert bit out coldly. Mathias hummed slightly and leant forward on his desk, giving them all a smug smirk.

"And why's that I wonder?" he murmured. Francis and Antonio glanced to one another and sighed. They both felt like that the amount of testosterone around here could suffocate a person and wondered if they should leave, just in case.

"The reason we can't hurt them is most likely the same reason as to why you wouldn't be able to hurt Luke over there," Gilbert sniped back, hands on hips and a victorious glint in his eye. Mathias blinked and then grinned. Lukas just sighed and rolled his eyes.

"Touché," he said, leaning back in his chair with his hands behind his head. "So, just who are we looking out for anyway?"

"Matthew Williams, Arthur Kirkland and Lovino—" Here, Gilbert ignored the slight whimper coming from Antonio, "—and Lovino Vargas."

Mathias' eyebrows rose and he cocked his head to the side. "Kirkland? And Vargas? Together? You survived both of them? And that Matthew Williams...didn't he make Ivan Braginsky cry during the last hockey tournament? My God, we really have our work cut out for tonight, huh?" he said, impressed at how they all managed to survive.

Gilbert shrugged, trying not to remember how Alfred has said the same thing before he beat them up. "Yeah well, they're not that bad. You'll be fine. Besides, we'll even pay you, 'cause we're that generous! Just name your price!"

Mathias grinned. "Alright. I'll have five hundred for Kirkland, 'cause he's fucking _insane_. I'll have three for Vargas, 'cause he's fucking insane but not as bad. And for Williams...one hundred. Don't know the kid well, and I would charge half that normally, but he did make Ivan cry once. So that's...nine hundred in total~!" he declared cheerfully, blue eyes bright with excitement.

Francis, Antonio and Gilbert blinked.

Lukas just sighed and smacked Mathias over the head. "We are not the mafia, idiot. I highly doubt they have nine pounds, let alone nine hundred pounds!" he hissed, crossing his arms and glaring. Mathias whined and crossed his arms sulkily.

"We're not the mafia _yet_! But we will be soon!" he declared, pouting slightly. "Alright, alright. Just give me twenty quid each and that'll be that."

Gilbert grinned and held out his hand. "Pleasure doing business with you," he purred, his eyes glinting once more. Mathias shrugged and smirked in return.

"Likewise," he said, holding out his own hand.

Shaking the Dane's hand with a sense of triumph, Gilbert motioned his two friends to follow him out. Antonio gave the puffin a little wave, before following the orange-haired albino out of the room. Francis however, lingered slightly, giving them all a thoughtful look.

He was still in much need of some models for his show. He had used Skype to talk to his boss the other night and she was even more pissed off than usual now that his hair was pink. He gave them all a charming grin before waltzing straight up to Mathias. This set off the first warning bell in Lukas' mind.

Then Francis leant over Mathias' desk and winked at him. Second warning bell. Lukas glared at the back of Francis' head, his hands clenched into fists and he resisted beating the French boy up.

"You know, _cher_, I have a fashion show coming up, and I seem to be lacking models. You wouldn't mind, ah, _filling_ in, would you?" Francis purred, taking Mathias' hand and kissing the inside of his wrist sweetly. Mathias just blinked, confused as to why the French-dude was making out his hand, whilst Lukas narrowed his eyes and slapped Francis away from his Dane. Three warning bells and Francis was _out_.

"We would mind. Very much so. Now get out before Berwald kicks you out," the Norwegian said, yanking Mathias away from Francis' grasping hands. The Dane just laughed and threw himself at Lukas, delighted with his rare show of possessiveness. Francis just held up his hands and blew him a kiss before flouncing off and out of the door.

"So Luke, want to tell me what _that_ was about?" Mathias teased, poking Lukas' cheek gently.

Lukas just kicked him, turning his head away to hide his small smile. Watching the sickening scene, Emil grimaced and shook his head.

Obviously his DNA test lied to him.

He simply refused to believe that he was actually related to Lukas.

X-x-X-x-X

The actual night of their 'meeting' with their exes turned out to be even worse than they had expected.

Francis and Gilbert were currently sulking at the bar. Gilbert was nursing a warm beer, whilst Francis was searching for a good wine. Gilbird watched the pair of them from his nest and tweeted softly. He certainly hadn't expected this degree of depression when he decided to return. Fluffing up his feathers, Gilbird leant over and pecked his master on the ear.

Gilbert hissed and flicked Gilbird away. "I know, I missed you too! But please let me sulk in peace!" he demanded, going all cross-eyed as he tried to glare up at the bird.

"You know, _mon ami_, you wouldn't have to sulk if you just asked Matthew what was wrong," Francis commented, effectively giving up on his wine search.

Gilbert scowled at him and crossed his arms. "I told you, I tried to ask him. All he did was tell me how much I sucked as a boyfriend," he hissed and slumped over in depression. Francis frowned and reached over to pet his friend's shoulder.

"If it helps, I didn't fare so well with Arthur either. I was stupid enough to try and push all the blame on Michelle. I hoped he would have bought it, but _non_. He is far smarter than that," Francis sighed, folding his arms on the bar and resting his head on them.

Gilbert snorted. "Well that was stupid. And you call yourself the 'ambassador of love'?" he asked, quirking a brow at him. Francis scowled and pushed him off his bar-stool.

"No need to be so mean, _cher_...if Antonio was present, he would have told you off by now," Francis warned, wagging a finger in Gilbert's face. Gilbert wrinkled his nose and swatted the hand away and sat back on his stool.

"I wonder how Toni is doing with that Italian brat anyway...couldn't be any worse than what we've been through," he mused, gaining a thoughtful hum from Francis in return.

"Indeed," he stated, curling a lock of hair around his finger.

Unbeknownst to them, Antonio had done very well actually. So well, in fact, that he couldn't wait to spread the good news. As soon as Lovino pushed him away, Antonio had practically ran off to tell Bella all about it. After all, she was his Official Best Girl-Friend, and had come for extra support. That, and she didn't want to pass up a chance of going to the club without Lars chaperoning her. Spotting her near the edge of the dance-floor, Antonio skipped up to her and threw his arms around her happily.

"Oh Bella~! Today I am a very happy man~!" he sang, squeezing her tightly as she giggled with joy.

"Did he forgive you then?" she asked, pulling back to smile fondly at her oldest friend. Antonio grinned and winked at her.

"Not yet, but he said he'd think about it! Oh Bella! He's nearly almost mine again!" he cried, grabbing her face and kissing her cheeks in delight. His happiness was seemingly contagious as the blonde girl laughed and kissed his cheeks back.

"I'm so happy for you! You looked horribly upset for the past few days, even my brother was getting slightly worried and he's my brother!" Bella commentated, feeling a slight prickle at the back of her neck.

Unbeknownst to them, a pair of honey-coloured eyes was glaring at them angrily.

"Come, my Bella! Let's dance," Antonio declared, drawing her in close and twirling her around in his arms. Bella laughed and gave him her trademark feline grin.

"I like it when you're happy. You're a much better dancer like this," she mused, curling her arms around his neck and humming along to the song. Antonio just chuckled and kissed her forehead fondly.

"If everything works out, I'll be a happy man for the rest of my life," he whispered, his eyes glittering with anticipation and joy. Bella smiled and followed his lead, smoothly stepping in time to the beat as he led her through the dance.

"And a good dancer I hope as well. My brother doesn't appreciate strange men stepping all over my toes," she teased. Antonio gave a dry laugh and averted his eyes, making sure that her brother wasn't actually around.

"Your brother doesn't appreciate much about me," he said dryly, his eye twitching at the burst of unpleasant memories of her brother demonstrating just how much he unappreciated the Spaniard.

Bella just gave him her trademark feline grin and shrugged. "He doesn't really appreciate many people," she murmured, glancing around the club with a sigh. Her eyes lit up as she caught sight of two familiar faces. "Hey, aren't those your friends? They don't look very happy," she commented, cocking her head to the side cutely.

Antonio blinked and the turned to where she was referring to. Sure enough, he spotted his two _amigos_ slouched against each at the bar and grinned.

"Well, my _hermosa_ Bella, I'm afraid our dance must be cut short," Antonio sighed and leant down to meet Bella's lips halfway. It was a chaste kiss like everything else between them. Bella grinned and broke the kiss, pushing him away and shaking her head with amusement. Waving the blonde goodbye, he practically danced his way up to the bar and threw his arms around the two friends.

"What a beautiful night it is, eh?" he cheered, pulling Francis and Gilbert in close for a hug. Gilbert snorted and pushed the Spaniard away, scowling at him. Francis on the other hand, managed to forget his plight long enough to force his hand up Antonio's shirt for a very firm grope.

"What's so fucking beautiful about it?" Gilbert hissed, protecting Antonio by kicking Francis off his stool. Antonio blinked at the French boy on the floor, wondering how he had gotten down there, before shrugging it off and turning to Gilbert with a beaming smile.

"My Lovi~ said he would think about forgiving me~!" Antonio sang, his beautiful eyes filled with sparkly happiness. Francis stood up from the floor and clapped his hands together with joy, genuinely pleased for his friend.

"Oh, _cher_, that's wonderful news! Now, if only your luck would rub off on us," Francis sighed, pouting at the unfairness of it all. Antonio cocked his head to the side and hummed.

"Do you think it is possible for luck to rub off on other people?" he asked, cheering Francis up immediately. The French boy's eyes grew wide with delight as he stepped closer to the sweet Spaniard.

Wriggling his hips slightly, Francis winked and said, "I don't know...would you like to try it out?"

Choking on his drink, Gilbert snapped his head up and growled at the Frenchman, warning him to back off. Gilbert clicked his tongue, with the amount of times that he has beaten Francis up, one would have thought that he would have received the message by now: you do _not_ touch Toni like that, ever.

Francis pouted and rolled his eyes. Honestly, it was a perfectly innocent question and really now, Antonio did sort of bring that one upon himself.

"Luck has fuck all to do with it, so fuck it," Gilbert growled, his precious chick chirping sweetly in his ear. Oh God, how he's missed his baby. Reaching up to ruffle Gilbird's feathers, the albino frowned. "Sorry about the bleach smell. I had to get rid of the orange somehow. And uh...no offense, but you feel...fatter," he said, earning a sharp bite on his finger. Antonio giggled as Gilbert gasped in pain and retracted his hand quickly.

"No doubt he's been spoiled. Matthew's pancakes are rather...moreish, hmmm?" Francis mused, eyeing Gilbert's bleeding finger with amusement. The albino flipped him off and slumped over the bar.

"They are freaking sweet. Ah fuck..." Gilbert sighed, rubbing his bleeding finger roughly. "I need a drink. Not luck. Just a drink."

Antonio smiled and nodded, and leant over the bar. He spied three bottles of opened beer and grinned. Francis wrinkled his nose at the prospect of drinking such an unrefined drink, but guessed that his day was crappy enough that just _one_ beer wouldn't make it worse.

They each held up their bottle and grinned to each other.

"To...bros before hoes!" Gilbert cackled. Antonio rolled his eyes whilst Francis wrinkled his nose again in disgust.

"To making Lovino mine again~!" the sweet Spaniard said, his eyes sparkling. Francis smiled. Gilbert kicked him.

"To hopefully falling in bed with each other again!" Francis declared. Antonio blinked in confusion. Gilbert kicked him.

As they clinked their bottles together and drank, they each failed to notice the pairs of eyes watching them carefully. The honey-coloured pair looked on with twisted amusement. The violet-coloured pair watched them with slight apprehension. The green-coloured pair just looked confused as the owner wondered why he was going along with such a sick and brilliant plan.

Yet as they watched their ex-boyfriends down their drinks, none of them could prevent the evil smirks spreading across their faces...

* * *

><p><strong>Tah Daaaaah~!<strong>

**Now, what do you think of them now? ^_^ I like the idea of a motherhen!Gilbert...don't ask me why, just accept it~! ^_^**

**AND HOW COULD YOU THINK THAT I'D MAKE TONI CHEAT ON LOVI? I WOULD NEVER, EVER MAKE MY SWEETHEART CHEAT ON HIS SWEETHEART! But yeah, I love you guys. Like lots. Like lots and lots. More than jellytots. Which is a lot~!  
><strong>

**So thank you to: **_Dragonna, RomaneLuka, -MoonxStar-, Mattie Williams, Her-Bloody-Majesty, fricken ray of sunshine, Miggery, Mikadocon, Silverfern500, NinjaAlchemist, shizukoyasu, TABC, amerique, XxCapturetheLightxX, otaku876, Schistosoma, Lodella, awesome, Amane Haruka, natcat5, LittleEisenHowerCheesecake, NekOtaku, PrussianAwesomeness, APH-Indonesia, JazzyAli, dontpokemepleez, Shadowsamatheexorcist, xXIceXxShatteredXx, Kaya Yurushi, koder, SlumsOfEden, haganeno56, flames04, Wicked Winter, demonlifehealer, cheezeruleszolp, denise134, CookieTower, Annzy Bananzy, SoraForever, Clueless Uke, andthenshesaid, TheGame, MissTaken _**annnnd**_ KittenNya_**!  
><strong>

**Next chapter, we shall see the beauty that is Lovino's fucked up mind. Mwahahahaha~!**

**Perty please review~!  
><strong>

**Love City Girl**

**x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x**

**P.S. - If you've made it this far to the end of this chapter, have a cookie~! 'Cause this is one big-ass chapter. Can you tell my blood, sweat and tears went into this baby~? Mwahaha~! Epic chapter is EPIIIIIIC~!**


	14. How To Cross The Line

**My Lord. This chapter may come as a bit of a let down seeing as the last chapter was just EPIC~!**

**Whatever though! It's finished and I'm happy! ^_^ Which is rare! ^_^**

**And OMG! People! Someone told me that my story is on the 'fanfic recs' section of **_Hetalia TVTropes_**...although, there are a hell of a lot of good stories on it already...so I don't know if this is something special or if my story is really that good. Either way, thank you **_Kiri Ame_** for recommending it! ^_^**

**See! ^_^ I am so happy! ^_^**

**ANYWAYS! ANGSTY-TIMES AHOY~!  
><strong>

**ENJOY!**

* * *

><p><span>Chapter 14 - How To Cross The Line<span>

The first thing he noticed when he slowly woke up was the burning light that shone in his eyes.

The second thing he noticed was the tittering that surrounded him, like there was a crowd of people and he was stuck in the middle of them.

The third thing he noticed was that he was cold. And there was stuff stuck to him. And that he was most likely naked.

The forth thing he noticed was that he was tied to something. With rope. Itchy rope that could definitely do some damage to his well moisturised skin. It was when that thought hit him that he decided to open his eyes. Blinking in the harsh morning sun, with a pounding headache that could rival a nightclub, Francis gasped as he took in the scene before him.

Fifty-odd students were milling around, staring at him. He tried to stand up properly, but found that he was bound back in a slouching position against –he looked up– the flagpole? Francis' eyes then flickered down to his body. His naked body. That had post-it notes stuck to it. Each post-it note had a single word on each one. Squinting, the French boy could make out a sentence along his stomach. **Do. Not. Trust. This. Whore. **

Well. Ouch.

Swallowing down the lump in his throat, Francis glanced around him and almost sighed in relief when he heard another groan next to him. Then came a wonderful combination of curse words, English words, German words, made-up words and words that seemed to have been strung together in a very interesting way. Francis hummed, Gilbert always was the creative one.

"Ah, Gilbert...I see you are in the same predicament as I, _cher_," Francis chuckled hoarsely. The albino spat something back at him. Francis didn't know if it was German or made-up, but it certainly didn't sound very nice.

"Fuck. What the- I don't even...fuck. Frenchy, do you have post-it notes on your body?" Gilbert asked, glancing down at his own unique message. **Fuck. Ing. Freak. **Somehow, Gilbert highly doubted that Matthew would write such a thing on his own, or even think it up on his own. Also, Matthew always seemed to get a tad bit annoyed whenever someone referred to him as a 'freak'.

Obviously a certain schizophrenic Brit or a certain Italian brat forced him into this, the bastards.

"Ah, _oui_, I do. And are you naked?" Francis asked, his standard purr lacking in his voice. Gilbert frowned as the question lacked Francis' usual enthusiasm for nakedness. It instantly set off alarm bells inside his head.

"_Ja_...you surrounded by a bunch of gawping sad motherfuckers?" Gilbert asked, his red eyes gleaming with hate towards the crowd that openly giggled and whispered about them. He found it unnerving that the majority of their observers were not actually girls. He also found it unnerving that Elizaveta and Kiku were nowhere in sight. They were normally at the forefront of any event that involved attractive males minus their clothes.

"_Oui_. Y-You know...normally I would adore to be the centre of attention. Yet, I find myself wishing for quite the opposite right now," Francis murmured, trying to keep his voice high in cheerfulness. Then a soft quiver from his left caught his attention. Gilbert heard the quick gasp and swore once more under his breath.

Mother. Fucking. Dick. Heads.

"A-Ah..._amigos_, I don't suppose we are all dreaming the same dream, eh?" said a sweet, broken sounding voice. Gilbert snarled as he recognised the Spanish accent. Francis sighed and tried to reach out and comfort Antonio. However, his hands were tied in such a way, that he couldn't touch either the Spaniard, or Gilbert.

"I really fucking hope so Toni, but looking at things the way they are now...I don't think we are dreaming the same fucking dream," Gilbert sighed, leaning his head against the flagpole. The albino glanced down at his body again and cursed the existence of post-it notes and flagpoles and psycho ex-boyfriends.

"...I thought so. I mean, it would seem weird if we were to all dream the same thing, eh?" Antonio asked, his body quivering slightly. He really did not appreciate being the centre of attention. Not like this anyway. The Spaniard bit his lip as he tried to read his personal post-it notes upside-down. His green eyes burned slightly as he took in the messages. **Beware. He. Hits. Like. A. Bitch.**

"Toni, you better not be crying," Gilbert muttered, "And _you_ lot can FUCK OFF! Bastards!" However, his words were only met with excitable whispers and more laughter. Most of their observers had taken their pictures and ran off with the evidence, leaving the majority of their audience to consist of girls who had nothing better to do than stare at three naked guys.

"I-I'm n-not crying!" Antonio stated, shaking his head fiercely. Maybe if he closed his eyes, it will all go away...after all, if he can't see them, then perhaps he can pretend that they can't see him. It was a trick he used to do when he was little and in trouble. Whenever his mother started shouting at him, he would close his eyes and pretend that he had disappeared. It didn't always work, but it did make him feel better.

Gilbert just swore again, his words coming out dirtier and colder. Francis just sighed and gave the crowd a fleeting look. Nope. Not one single sign of their perpetrators in sight. How utterly cowardly of them. He felt Antonio tremble again and heard Gilbert hiss and spit at their audience once more and decided to try and make light of the situation.

"A-Ah..._mes amis_, I do believe we can honestly say that entire student body have now witnessed us naked," he commented, glancing down at his body. He found it oddly amusing that the only thing covering his groin were a couple of post-it notes with roses drawn on them. Ah, Arthur knew him so well.

Gilbert hissed, twisting his body and hands in order to weaken the bindings. "Frenchy, seeing _you_ naked is the norm around here. Seeing me and Toni naked? That ain't fucking normal! And I swear to God, if Toni _is_ crying, I will _burn_ a bitch! Fuck that shit, I'm going to burn Mathias for not keeping his end of the deal!" he growled, his piercing red eyes scanning the crowd for three familiar people.

Antonio sniffed a little, a weak smile on his face. "I-I'm not crying Gilbert. I-I'm just...not very happy r-right now," he murmured. The Spaniard refused to open his eyes, still feeling apprehensive at actually seeing the crowd who were gawping at them.

"'Not very happy'? Bit of a fucking understatement Toni, don't you think?" Gilbert asked, rolling his eyes at the above them. Antonio just gave him a weak giggle and shrugged, despite Gilbert not being able to see him.

"I guess," he murmured, licking his lips nervously.

Francis sighed and glanced over their audience. "You'd think they'd be worrying about being late to lessons," he mused. "I guess seeing three very handsome and very naked men seem to be more appealing, _non_?" he asked, cocking his head to the side in thought.

"Maybe you should ask them?" Antonio said, despite knowing that Francis had answered his own question. Seeing three popular, and naked, students being tied to a flagpole would be enough to persuade even the most studious of people to skip their lessons.

"Fuck making conversation with those bastards," Gilbert hissed. "It's not worth it! They won't listen to us...they're too busy taking fucking pictures and starting fucked up rumours!"

"I guess you're right, _cher_, but what else can we do?" Francis asked, feeling numb at being stuck in the same position for quite some time.

"Here's a better question for you: where the _fuck_ is Gilbird?" the albino demanded, shaking his head to see if the bird was still nesting in his hair. "God-fucking-dammit! I just got my baby back and now he's fucking gone again!" Gilbert was, distraught over the absence of his baby. He would have thought that a bird as intelligent as Gilbird would have stuck around to protect them, or at the very least, to comfort them.

"It seems he has abandoned you once more," Francis mused dryly. He never cared much for the bird, especially after the pest had bitten him on the nose. Not to mention the sleepless night he had gotten due to Gilbert's incessant worrying. Honestly, the amount of worrying that boy went through was enough to turn anyone prematurely grey and that was ignoring the fact that Gilbert's hair might as well be grey anyway.

"Fuck off! Gilbird does not abandon me! My baby does not abandon me!" Gilbert hissed, much to the enjoyment of their audience. Antonio giggled slightly and tried to twist around, keeping his eyes on the ground at all times.

"Maybe your baby flew off before they could tie him to the flagpole as well," he commented humorously, the image of a tiny Gilbird tied to a flagpole amused him like nothing else.

"Tie him up? The fuck? And what, I guess he would be naked too, _ja_?" Gilbert asked scornfully. Francis gave off a short laugh.

"I suppose plucking off his feathers would count, wouldn't it?" he asked, directing his question towards a highly amused Spanish sweetheart. Antonio nodded, despite Francis not being able to see him. Gilbert choked and started cursing them and their mothers to hell.

"And what would his post-it note say? I can only imagine him wearing one. He's not very big, is he?" Antonio said, enjoying the gentle teasing and banter that distracted him from what was really happening.

"Demon bird? Perhaps? And well, he may not be big, but he is quite chubby. A bit like his master, _non_?" Francis questioned his tone light and casual and a direct contrast to what his tone should be, considering their situation and all. Antonio giggled. Gilbert growled.

"Fuck you. Both of you. Talking about Gilbird like that...he is a bird of the highest standard and deserves your utmost respect. And I am not fat. Bastards," Gilbert spat. "And the very idea of Gilbird being stuck in a situation like this is just plain stupid!"

"Well, it's a good job he flew off then, isn't it?" Antonio asked, feeling quite amused and a little better. Gilbert just scowled and ignored him, firmly in denial over his baby's desertion. Francis however, hummed thoughtfully and clicked his tongue.

"Speaking of flying, I wonder why the post-it notes won't fly off..." Francis mused, eyeing his post-it notes as they fluttered in the wind. Gilbert spluttered, his face turning red.

"D-Don't say that! That's so unawesome! You could've jinxed us, and now they might actually fly off leaving us fucking stark-naked! So. Fucking. Un. Awesome!" he cried, shaking his head and squirming against his bonds. He glared down at his post-it notes, eyeing the part that was sticking to his body. Then he blinked. Then he swore. Then he cursed the existence of glue. "_Scheiße_. They're glued to us. And not with that fucking cheap pritt-stick shit either. I'm talking fucking _glued_!"

Francis blinked and then sighed wearily. "That won't be fun to take off," he commented. Antonio just whimpered and swallowed back his tears.

"W-Why would t-they...h-how d-did they d-do this?" Antonio asked, keeping his head down and his voice quiet. Francis sighed and leaned his head back, ignoring the titters and the giggles that surrounded them.

"I do not know. All I remember is having that awful beer last night and—oh _merde_. Of course he would do something like this," Francis mused, flicking his head to the side to remove a lock of hair that had fallen into his eyes. "My _lapin _is certainly a creative one, _non_?"

Antonio frowned. "H-How did you know it was A-Arthur? He's smart but he's not that creative! It could have been L-L-Lovino, for all you know," the Spaniard said bitterly. Francis always found it odd how someone so sweet could transform into something so bitter when Arthur's name is mentioned. The French boy hummed and shook his head.

"Arthur is _très_ creative. Just look at the past tricks that they have played and tell me that they don't have Arthur's name all over them," Francis said, tilting his head to the side as he mulled over the past few days. The Viagra thing was certainly something that the Brit would have thought up of. After all, it did seem to have the same spiteful edge as Arthur himself.

"But L-Lovino is creative too! And those 'tricks' have all of their names on them, not just Arthur's!" Antonio retorted. If Gilbert had his hands free, he would have definitely committed by now.

"This is fucking stupid. I can't believe you are having a stupid argument over which shitty ex-boyfriend is the most creative when it comes to shit like this! So fucking stupid!" Gilbert snapped, effectively stopping a full-argument before it began to heat up. "...and anyway, those 'tricks' totally don't have Matthew's name on them! He's way too fucking nice for that shit! It's your fucking boyfriends that corrupted and forced him into this shit!"

Francis twisted around to glare at Gilbert's head. "If Matthew is 'too fucking nice', then why is he not here, comforting you and begging forgiveness?" he asked, his blue eyes glinting slightly. Gilbert scoffed and glared at the ground.

"'Cause...'cause...'cause those two fucking bastards probably have him somewhere, trying to force him into doing some other bullshit plan of theirs," he said bitterly, then continued to curse the aforementioned 'fucking bastards' under his breath. Francis just shook his head and then twisted around to glance at Antonio. Okay, so he and Gilbert hadn't managed to make up with Arthur and Matthew...but Antonio had said that he had made up with Lovino, right?

So why was he here?

"Antonio..._cher_, I cannot help but wonder as to why _you_ are here? I thought Lovino had taken you back?" he asked, his tone filled with concern and just a touch of sadness. After all, any failure of _amour_ just broke his heart. Especially if it the failure occurred to one of his friends.

"I-I thought so too...I-I guess I m-messed up again," Antonio murmured, flexing his hands to rid them of the numbness that he had started to feel. The Spaniard thought back to last night, wondering what had gone. Where did he go wrong? When did he go wrong?

What exactly had he done in order to do something wrong?

Was it the fact that he had beaten up Sadiq? No...Lovino actually seemed relieved that he had turned up. Was it the lecture he had given him afterwards? No, it couldn't have been that. All that happened before Lovino said he would give him a chance. So what did he do afterwards? Was it the fact that he had skipped off, 'cause Lovino never really liked it when he skipped...or perhaps Lovino has just changed his mind.

Perhaps he thought it over and now he's decided that Antonio didn't deserve a second chance.

Antonio blinked and then whimpered, his own thoughts hurting him and making his heart ache. Gilbert heard the whimper and then sighed, knowing exactly what the Spaniard was doing. At times like this, he really hated being the Trio's resident mother-hen.

"Toni, please stop thinking. It's making you depressed and when you're depressed, I'm depressed and that shit just ain't sitting well with me. So stop it," Gilbert stated, blowing a strand of hair out of his face.

"S-Sorry," Antonio whispered, feeling his eyes burn with unshed tears. Francis frowned and then hummed thoughtfully.

"I don't understand this. What did we do last night that could warrant such a...well; I don't think we can call this a trick, _non_?" Francis asked, wondering if his comments about Alfred made Arthur snap. He couldn't help it, and the Brit probably didn't deserve it either. It's just that...the French boy never got jealous, and last night when he saw the two blonds dancing, a wave of envy hit him like a cloud of steam.

It hurt him to see Arthur so relaxed in the arms of another, and that made him burn with spite and anger. Spite and anger that needed to be released and ending being released in the worst way possible. Now he made Arthur snap and obviously the beautiful boy wouldn't take those comments without paying Francis in kind.

Well. If there was one thing that attracted Francis to Arthur, it was the boy's feisty nature.

"I-I guess not. It doesn't feel like a trick," Antonio said. The Viagra had made him upset, after all, it got him kicked off his football team. The UV pen? Well, that was easy to ignore, until Lars pointed out the message on his perfect behind. Which was a lie, by the way. His behind was naturally perfect and implant-free, thank you very much. The hair-dye was quite funny, until he realised that he wasn't dreaming when he had asked his football coach to bite him. Then he just wanted to curl up and die.

"Trick or no fucking trick. We did nothing last night to earn this unawesome shit! So why the _fuck_ would they go this far?" Gilbert demanded, utterly bewildered by the fact that they were willing to torment them this much. The last few pranks were...well, annoying. The Viagra stunt was petty; the UV pen was crappy; the hair-dye was annoying. This? This was fucking bullshit with an added side of 'fucked up'!

"Why_ wouldn't_ we go this far?" a voice called out. An Italian voice. A voice that made Antonio freeze and tremble at the same time. Francis turned his head and saw three very familiar figures emerge from the crowd. Lovino was clutching a camera, Arthur was avoiding any eye contact and Matthew was holding onto his bear for dear life.

Francis frowned and wondered if they themselves knew that they had gone too far. Judging by Matthew's expression, it seemed that the Canadian was ashamed and a little shocked by his actions. The other two, more specifically his beloved bunny, seemed to be more indifferent with the situation. Of course, Francis had enough experience to know that indifference is probably the last emotion that the Brit was feeling right now.

Antonio didn't bother looking at them. He was too busy staring at the ground. Gilbert, on the other hand, just plain erupted.

The albino glanced up, his eyes burning with anger. "So, is this the fucking cherry on the cake? Is this your big fucking _FINALE_? You fucking, unawesome fuckers! What the fuck possessed you to something as shitty as this! Fuck! Toni! You better not be crying, 'cause then I really won't be held responsible for kicking that Italian bitch's face in!" he cursed and ranted and raved. His face steadily bloomed the same colour as his eyes.

"I-I-I'm n-not cry-crying!" the Spaniard insisted. Francis sighed and tried, once again, to reach out to comfort the Trio's resident sweetheart. Keyword being 'tried'.

Lovino inwardly flinched at Antonio's broken voice and his grip on the camera faltered slightly. Seeing their work in all its glory made him pause slightly. He felt that there should have been some triumphant feeling, or a feeling of victory or satisfaction. But looking at his ex-boyfriend, naked and tied to a flagpole...he just felt a little empty. A little cold.

And seeing Antonio cry...well, that's something no one wanted to see, even he knew that. It was a sight that Lovino considered to be even worse than a crying Feliciano. And knowing that he was the reason behind Antonio's tears made him feel quite...guilty. Lovino shook his head, trying hard to ignore the dark voices inside his head telling him what a bastard he was. Instead, he listened to the voices that told him what a bunch of bastards the Trio were.

Francis cheated on Arthur. He deserved this. Gilbert neglected Matthew. He deserved this. Antonio...Antonio hit him. Yeah okay, so Lovino hit and kicked Antonio on a regular basis, but that was totally different. Wasn't it? Antonio...h-he deserved this, didn't he?

"Oi! You fucking, miserable coward! Come to take a picture have you? Then hurry up and take it, you fucking unawesome Italian brat!" Gilbert hissed. Lovino scowled, his grip on the camera so tight, he could feel the sharp edges cutting into his palm. Inside, he felt slightly sick at seeing what his 'sick mind' had come up with...but what's done is done and all that.

He couldn't exactly back out now, can he?

"Don't call me a fucking coward and don't order me around!" Lovino snapped back, his honey-coloured eyes darkening to a deep gold. He didn't know how to react to feeling so cold, so he resorted to his default setting, 'a short-tempered Italian bitch'. According to Alfred anyway.

"I call them as I see them and right now all I see is a fucking coward hiding behind his fucking camera!" Gilbert spat, his red eyes darkening to a bloody crimson. Lovino gulped silently, licking his lips nervously.

"I'm no fucking coward and you have no right to refer to me as such! You fucking deserve this!" Lovino cried out, waving the camera in the air. Although, it did sound as if he was also trying to convince himself of that last fact.

"I deserve this? I fucking deserve this? Want to know what you deserved? That fucking slap that Toni gave to you!" Gilbert retorted, his tone bitter, spiteful and just a little bit smug. Lovino flinched at his statement, before shaking his head in anger.

"Did I fuck? I never did anything to warrant being fucking hit!" he insisted. Gilbert snorted, genuinely amused by their conversation. Antonio whimpered and tried to get Gilbert to shut up.

"P-Please Gilbert...don't bring that up, please?" he pleaded brokenly, hating how Lovino's voice sounding strained and conflicted.

"No, Toni, I won't. I want this bitch to understand that he has been nothing but a fucking bastard to you! He hits you. He hurts you. He calls you a fucking retard, so don't you _dare_ stand up for him!" Gilbert snapped at the Spaniard. Antonio blinked, knowing where Gilbert was coming from, but not wanting Lovino to get hurt either.

Lovino was left reeling from Gilbert's list of his crimes against Antonio. "Th-That's completely different!" he protested. "I never meant any of those things, you bastard! So stay out of it!"

"Never meant any of those things? If you didn't mean anything you said, then why did you say it? Stupid, fucking brat! You know, you never deserved Antonio's love and attention and you still don't! Antonio deserves way better than you, bitch, so stay away from him!" Gilbert growled to the fuming Italian.

"Bloody hell," Arthur muttered under his breath as he watched the two fight it out with words.

Matthew remained silent, staring at the Trio before him in shock. It had been midnight when the so-called 'Revenge Trio' tied the their ex-boyfriends to the flagpole. So in all actuality, it didn't look that bad. In broad daylight however, Matthew could see plainly just how awful their last heist was. The guilt that hit him made him feel more sick than the time when Arthur had given him food poisoning.

"Fuck off!" the Italian cried in retaliation. It was a weak retaliation but Lovino could feel himself starting to lose his nerve. His grip on the camera began to shake and he didn't even know what he was saying anymore. "You stupid albino freak! You don't _anything_ about me! Fucking fucker!"

"L-Lovino! St-Stop it!" Matthew's voice cried out. The Canadian couldn't stand the antagonistic atmosphere anymore; the tension so thick in the air, even the spectators began to feel quite uncomfortable with it. Gilbert's head perked up at the sound of Matthew's voice and sighed.

He twisted his head around so he could see Matthew properly. The blond boy was standing there, almost in shock. He was wearing his lovely red hoodie and in his grip was the white bear that Matthew had given him before he fucked off to Canada. Gilbert stared at the bear, briefly wondering if Matthew had replaced him with it. Then he saw the scars that dotted Matthew's hands. Then he saw the scars that dotted Arthur's and Lovino's hands.

Fuck. He knew Gilbird would never desert him!

"Heh, so Mattie...I guess Gilbird visited you again. Not as nice as last time, was he?" Gilbert asked. Matthew jumped at being addressed so abruptly and he quivered slightly, as Gilbert's vivid red eyes pierced him.

"G-Gilbert..." he murmured, not knowing what to say. Gilbert ignored him.

"'Course, he wouldn't exactly be nice to you, knowing what kind of fucked up shit you've put me through. It's kinda funny though...he might not forgive you, but I do. Isn't that _funny_ Mattie?" Gilbert asked, his eyes burning along with his face. Francis and Antonio's hearts ached at hearing such a broken voice from such a strong boy.

"It's not funny. It's not funny at all," Matthew breathed quickly, shaking his head.

Gilbert chuckled. "Nah, you're right. It's not funny. It just _hurts_."

Matthew's eyes widened at the admittance and his entire body trembled. He had never heard Gilbert's voice sound like that. It sounded so...so...broken.

To hear such words from Gilbert unnerved him and it felt like a bucket of icy, cold water had just been poured over his head. The Canadian averted his eyes from the scene before him, choosing to stare at the ground instead.

Arthur's eyes flickered towards the blond and he frowned slightly. "Matthew, are you okay?" he murmured, slightly in shock at Gilbert's statement himself. The albino was not known for his emotional capacity, so hearing him speak of his emotions so freely shocked him slightly. Matthew sighed sadly and then looked up to the Brit.

"A-ah...Arthur? D-Don't you think that maybe...we went too far this time?" Matthew asked hesitantly, clutching at his bear in slight distress. Arthur glanced down at him and hummed. The Brit knew that the line had been well and truly crossed and that there was no way back. He also knew that this was 95% Lovino's fault; 5% his fault, so he consoled himself with that little fact.

"Lovino, maybe we should...leave it," Arthur murmured, unable to look at Francis, unable to build the courage to actually see the hatred and disgust that the French boy _must_ be feeling for him. Arthur trembled, feeling quite disgusted with himself. Just a few days ago, they all agreed to draw a line and stop before the whole thing became cruel and unnecessary.

Tying the Bad Touch Trio up against a flagpole, _naked_, was cruel. Gluing post-it notes to their bodies with crude messages and pictures was cruel. What they did last night, by slipping them sleeping pills and carrying them out of the club, was cruel. Smuggling them into a taxi, whilst pretending that they had passed out due to a drinking game, was cruel.

Arthur winced. Getting _Alfred_ caught up in this mess...was beyond cruel. Now Kiku was upset. Alfred was pissed and, although he couldn't look at them, the Trio stuck to the flagpole must be pissed as well. The Brit sighed and rubbed the bridge of his nose. His hands stung slightly from the cuts that Gilbert's damn bird had given them and sighed.

If a single canary knew just how cruel they were being, then why didn't they?

Lovino glanced over to him and nodded shortly. "I guess," he muttered and then glanced away again, wishing that Antonio would look up at him. Wishing that Antonio would say the same things that Gilbert had said to Matthew.

But Antonio just stared at the ground. And Lovino stared at him. And Gilbert stared at Matthew, whilst Matthew stared at Gilbert. And Arthur was busy staring at the sky whilst avoiding the eyes of everyone else.

Francis stared at no one but the British boy, annoyed by the fact that Arthur refused to look at him in the eye. Well that was going to change right now. Arthur was going to acknowledge the mess that he has made and he would acknowledge it right _now_!

"Arthur. Arthur, look at me," Francis demanded, his blue eyes wild and desperate. Still, the blond didn't glance his way; but he did flinch at the sound of Francis' voice, his hands trembling slightly. "Arthur, _cher_, look. At. Me!"

Arthur bit his lip and glanced down at the ground. He could hear Lovino's dark mumbles and he could hear Matthew's question of concern towards him, but he didn't actually register their words. The only words he could hear were Francis'.

"Arthur! Look at me!" Francis cried out, one last time. Arthur flinched again and glanced up finally. Francis panted softly, his blue eyes meeting the conflicted green eyes of Arthur's. His _lapin_ looked pained and deeply confused, as if he didn't know what was right and wrong anymore. His heart ached and his mind was at war.

One side of him wanted to scream and curse Arthur for his stupidity. The other side wanted to let Arthur know that he forgave him and that he still loved him. Francis felt a headache coming on and opened his mouth to speak. Yet, he didn't know what to say. Here was Arthur, looking so raw and vulnerable and he genuinely had no words to speak to him.

Arthur, on the other hand, couldn't hear anything over the sound of his own beating heart. The beats echoed in his mind, making him feel quite ill and dizzy. He couldn't see anyone else but Francis, who was tied up, naked, covered in post-it notes and yet still looking at him like he was the only boy worth looking at.

The look in Francis' eyes made Arthur stagger slightly and he felt quite out of breath. "F-Francis, I—" he started, his voice quiet and hesitant. Francis perked up at the sound of Arthur's voice, but flinched when a new voice, one that was louder and more confident, interrupted his _lapin_.

"What the _hell_ is going on here?" a deep, commanding voice asked. Gilbert swallowed hard and slouched down the flagpole further. The crowd instantly parted for the newcomer, many of them running away quickly. Arthur, Lovino and Matthew remained frozen, unable to move and unable to speak. Gilbert glanced up nervously and saw his father's face contort in confusion and anger.

Well. Crap.

Gilbert's father was the headmaster of the Academy and had been for nine years running. He was firm, unrelenting and didn't have a single humorous bone in his body. Yet, as it is, being the son of the Academy's headmaster didn't lead to many benefits either. Instead, it led to having more disadvantages than anything else as Mr. Beilschmidt always appeared to be that much stricter when confronted with his sons.

The deputy-headmaster was Remus Vargas, the Grandpa of Feliciano and Lovino. There were many rumours that he wasn't really their Grandpa, given how young he appeared. There were also some rumours that he and Mr. Beilschmidt were...well, together, but Lovino quickly quashed them due to a couple of reasons. The first reason being that his Grandpa would _never_ sleep with a potato-headed man, no matter how good-looking he and his muscles were. The second reason being that if they got together, then Feliciano and Ludwig would like, become brothers or something...and that was shit that Lovino wasn't willing to tolerate.

The crowd dispersed at the sight of strict headmaster with a few braver students lingering around to watch the aftermath. Arthur, Lovino and Matthew were stunned when Mr. Beilschmidt turned and gave them his Level Three Glare. The students around the Academy had labelled his glares via a 'glaring system' so that they could predict just how much trouble they were in. Level Three was his default glare and Gilbert liked to think that he was born with his face like that. At Level Three, the students usually expected situations where they would end up soiling themselves and bursting into tears. Level Two meant that they were in deep shit and that they should run.

Level One usually told the students to go and commit suicide now before he did the job for them. Arthur could sense a Level One Glare coming his way in the near-future. Which wasn't really good, because Arthur had a lot of things he wanted to do in life and committing suicide was just not one of them.

The only ones immune to such horrific glares were Gilbert, Ludwig and Mr. Vargas.

Mr. Beilschmidt switched his attention to his son, deciding that Gilbert had priority over three stupid boys. He took off his jacket and draped it over the albino's cold body. "Gilbert, what happened?" he asked, ducking slightly to meet Gilbert's eye. The albino shifted uncomfortably, flushing slightly from shame.

"F-Funny thing...I don't actually remember," Gilbert mumbled back, flexing his hands slightly feeling utterly mortified that his father had seen him in such a position with his friends. It'd probably give the man even more reasons to dispute them as being his friends.

However, despite how much Mr. Beilschmidt knew that his son's friends weren't exactly the best influences in the world, he also knew that it was impossible for them to do even more damage to Gilbert's reputation. He also knew that they were the reason to Gilbert's happiness. Therefore, his protective nature stretched over to them at a certain extent.

He glanced over his shoulder and pointed at a random student. "You, I want you to run up to the nurses' office and bring her here. Tell her to bring some blankets as well!" he commanded his expression and his tone leaving no room for arguments.

The student just smirked and flicked his hair. "Like, whatever," he said and turned to flounce off towards the main building.

Mr. Beilschmidt resisted the urge to roll his eyes. Instead he turned back to his son and sighed. "Gilbert, don't lie to me. I know what happened, and I know why. What I don't understand is how six—" he turned and gave the Revenge Trio a pointed look, "—mature, young students have resorted to such childish acts of misconduct!"

"_V-Vater_! We did nothing! We weren't misbehaving at all!" Gilbert protested, hating the idea of being seen as childish by his own dad.

Mr. Beilschmidt hushed him and turned to give the Revenge Trio a Level Two Glare. Matthew instantly held up his bear for protection; Arthur flinched but resisted the temptation to strategically retreat' and Lovino just swallowed hard. No matter how scary Mr. Beilschmidt was, he was still a potato-bastard. Yeah, he was a potato-bastard that could kick Lovino out of the Academy, potentially ruining his future and life, but he was a potato-bastard nonetheless.

And Lovino would much rather die than admit that he had ran away from one those types of people!

"You three. My office. Now. Don't even think about running away," Mr. Beilschmidt stated, his blue eyes narrow and angry. Matthew trembled and nodded quickly, heading towards the Academy's main building immediately. Arthur sighed and gave a short nod before following the Canadian up to the school. Lovino lingered slightly, eyeing a certain Spaniard who still refused to look up from the ground. The Italian bit his lip, wondering if there was anything to say to Antonio; wondering if he had any right to say anything to Antonio.

"H-Hey...A-Antonio...I-I-I—" Lovino stammered, feeling very out of place and out of character at the moment. Mr. Beilschmidt rounded on him at once and almost gave him the Level One Glare.

"Now! Mr. Vargas!" he snapped, before turning to tend to his son once more. Gilbert refused to look at his father in the eye, preferring to copy Antonio's technique of metaphorically burning holes into the ground. Lovino jumped at the stern command and swallowed down the lump in his throat. The Spaniard seemed to have perked up a little, hesitantly glancing up to meet Lovino's eye.

The Italian's breath caught in his throat as he saw the outright hurt and pain that shone in those pretty green eyes. He opened his mouth and then closed it again, before tucking the camera away in his pocket. Figuring that he'd probably make the situation worse if he disobeyed Mr. Beilschmidt's order, Lovino simply nodded and then slowly made his way towards the headmaster's office.

He thought he heard Antonio call out to him; but he had to be imagining things, right?

After all, the Spaniard hated him now...right?

X-x-X-x-X

By the time Lovino reached the headmaster's office, he had come to the conclusion that he didn't actually hate Antonio and the idea of Antonio hating him genuinely made him feel quite ill. Hating Arthur and, at a certain extent, Matthew as well, was something totally different.

Seeing his handiwork like that…it sort of snapped something inside of him. Something that must have been bending for quite some time and now it just…snapped. Lovino clutched at his chest as it ached from all the guilt and hate and confusion he felt.

And when he felt like that, he couldn't really control himself, or more importantly, he couldn't control his mouth.

"You bastards," he hissed as he approached the two other boys who were waiting outside Mr. Beilschmidt's office. Arthur was leaning against a wall, gazing down at the floor. Matthew was busy trying to suffocate himself with his bear, pressing his face deeper into the fluffy fur as feelings of nausea grew in his stomach. The Canadian was sat in a chair opposite the door.

"Hello to you too, Lovino," Arthur said, glancing up to give Lovino a lazy glare. The Italian scoffed and narrowed his eyes at him, hands on hips and head held high.

"What the fuck has just happened?" he demanded. "What the fuck is going to happen? I thought you said that this plan was fool-fucking-proof!"

"I did, but I never said that we wouldn't get into trouble. And anyway, we can't exactly say that we didn't see this coming," Arthur said, inspecting his nails, trying to portray an air of indifference. He had hoped that Lovino would see right through it, but then he realised that Lovino was just like him. Slightly dense and incredibly short-tempered. The Italian scoffed and flicked him on the ear.

"You do realise that if we get fucking expelled, it'll be your fault!" the Italian hissed, feeling angrier towards the actual act of the plan than the idea of being expelled. Arthur paused in checking his nails and turned to face Lovino, incredulous at the Italian's audacity.

"My fault? This was your fucking plan! 'Oh, I know, let's tie them to the flagpole and stick post-it notes on them'!" Arthur mocked him. Lovino growled and stood up; glaring down at the Brit. Matthew just shook in his chair, the image of Gilbert's hurt face stuck in his mind.

"You! You went fucking along with it!" Lovino spat, pointing an accusatory finger at Arthur. "You're the one who started all this shit anyway! Now look what's happened! Antonio is out there fucking crying!"

Arthur quirked a brow. "And why do you care? Last I heard, you didn't care what that twat did or said," he asked, feeling as if all the energy had been sapped out of him.

"Don't call him that! And I don't…I just don't like seeing him cry either!" Lovino stated.

"B-But you made him cry when you got him kicked off the football team…a-and I'm pretty sure you made him cry after that as well. You've made him cry lots of times to be perfectly honest," Matthew said, plucking at the loose fur on his bear's body.

Lovino hissed at him and crossed his arms. "That's different. That's not…this time is just different!" What Lovino meant by that, was that this time he saw just how hurt Antonio was due to his actions. Which made Lovino guilty. Which made Lovino feel slightly ill and sick.

"Oh yes, we can see just how fucking different this time was, thank you very much," Arthur sniped, his green eyes narrowed and dangerous.

"Please don't!" Matthew pleaded with them.

"Fuck off!" Lovino hissed.

"Make me," Arthur spat.

"Bastard."

"Bitch."

"Dickhead."

"Hypocrite!"

"Oi! I am not a fucking hyopcr—"

"Enough!" the deep voice of Mr. Beilschmidt cut through their squabbling. He strode past them in fast, long steps and paused before the three boys. "My son and his friends are now in the nurses' office trying to peel off seventy-odd post-it notes that have been glued to their bodies. Before we go in, I would like to ask you one question: are you proud of yourselves?"

"No sir!" Arthur said quickly, his face red with shame. And it was true. Seeing Francis like that didn't make him feel proud of himself. It made him feel stupid.

"N-No…sir," Matthew whispered, hoping that maybe if he started crying, then Mr. Beilschmidt would go easy on him.

"No. Sir," Lovino muttered, kicking at the ground and sighing. This was Ludwig's fucking father. Jesus Christ, the guy was going to fucking eat him alive with the amount of shit he forced his sons to go through! He wasn't going to leave this office alive.

"Right. Get in," he instructed, opening his door and motioning for the three boys to enter his office. They nodded quickly and stumbled in, lingering by the door as Mr. Beilschmidt stalked past them to sit behind his desk. There were three chairs already set up before him and he pointed to them. "Sit down."

His voice was cold and harsh and left no room for argument. Arthur perched in the middle chair, whilst Lovino sat in the one nearest the window, leaving Matthew to curl up on the one nearest the filing cabinets. Mr. Beilschmidt sat down and sighed, rubbing his temples in exhaustion.

"I honestly have no idea as to why you would think that you could get away with anything you have done," Mr. Beilschmidt stated quietly, his deep voice making him more intimidating and causing the whole ordeal to be slightly more scarier. Arthur sighed and averted his eyes, briefly wondering if their lecture would ever end. Lovino was trying his hardest not to pass out or cry or laugh or scream out in anger. After all, this guy was the father of Ludwig (who he verbally torments) and Gilbert (who he physically tormented). Lovino knew that he was fucked.

Matthew was just staring at the floor, wishing that it would eat Arthur and Lovino up. Not him though, because he was an innocent until they sunk their claws into him. Now he was a horrid, bullying, cold-hearted person who used people for fun. _Ah. Note to self: break up with Lars._ That will be fun.

The Canadian glanced back up to Mr. Beilschmidt to see the man sitting behind his desk with their files in front of him. He didn't look very happy, and when he began to speak, he didn't sound very happy either.

"First, you drug my son and his friends with _sildenafil citrate_, then you vandalise their clothes by writing crude comments. You then proceed to further humiliate them by somehow managing to dye their hair. And now this? I understand that...maintaining relationships at your age are rather difficult, but if it doesn't work out, then how about trying to move on, instead of tormenting them?" Mr. Beilschmidt asked, his eyes as cold and as blunt as steel.

The boys before him remained silent; not a single one of them knew how to answer his question. Arthur glanced up at Mr. Beilschmidt from beneath his fringe and shifted slightly in his seat. The headmaster instantly switched his attention to the boy who was willing to make eye contact with him.

"E-Excuse me sir, but...h-how did you find out about the other...stuff?" Arthur asked hesitantly. He was so sure that everything had been planned out flawlessly, that no one with authority would ever find out.

Mr. Beilschmidt leaned forward and crossed his arms on his desk. Instead of looking at Arthur though, he turned and faced Lovino. The Italian automatically started shaking and mentally praying for mercy. "Your brother, Mr. Vargas, came to your Grandfather this morning and told him all he knew. Granted, what he knew wasn't much, but it was enough to find out why _my_ son has orange streaks in his hair and why _my_ son's friends have been tormented as well," Mr. Beilschmidt said, his voice remained calm and quiet, yet Lovino knew this was just the calm before the storm.

"M-My brother...he isn't in trouble as well, is he?" Lovino asked, averting his eyes quickly. Mr. Beilschmidt blinked in surprise and then hummed.

"No, he isn't. He did not take part in any of your...plans, and the only reason he confessed was due to the fact that he, and I quote, '_could not take the meanness of it all anymore_' end quote. _You_, however, are in a great deal of trouble and consider yourself lucky that it isn't your Grandfather in here lecturing you," Mr. Beilschmidt said, peering down at Lovino with a stern look.

The Italian trembled and sank down into his chair, almost wishing for the ability to melt and just disappear.

"A-Are you going to expel us? Mr. Beilschmidt?" Arthur asked, trying hard to keep his voice steady and calm. Matthew felt a little light headed at the idea as he silently hyperventilated behind his bear. Lovino on the other hand, clenched his fists and bit his tongue, trying to control any angry outbursts that may occur if Mr. Beilschmidt said yes.

"I should and I know it's the Academy's policy to expel any perpetrators caught bullying their peers," Mr. Beilschmidt said, "Regardless of the fact the perpetrators were once...boyfriends, of their victims." Mr. Beilschmidt grimaced slightly, but then shook his head and peered at the frightened Trio before him. Matthew looked ready to pass out at any given moment; Arthur looked dangerously pale and ill; Lovino was shaking, his whole body tensed up and stiff.

"W-We weren't bullying them! We were just...we were just..." Arthur trailed off, realizing just how immature their excuses were. Now faced with their headmaster, Arthur's words caught in his throat as he failed to explain what they were actually doing.

"You were just...what?" Mr. Beilschmidt asked, narrowing his eyes. Mr. Beilschmidt prided himself on being a firm parental figure for his children, but he was also very fiercely protective of them as well. Especially of Gilbert because he knew that, whilst Ludwig could look after himself, Gilbert was excellent at taking care of others, but not himself. That fact worried Mr. Beilschmidt a great deal. So when he caught wind of Gilbert's ex-boyfriend (since when did he even have a _boyfriend_? Or when did he even become _gay_? Well...so much for grandchildren...) tormenting him, Mr. Beilschmidt became infuriated.

"I don't know," Arthur replied, feeling very ashamed and very idiotic. Mr. Beilschmidt sighed and leant back in his chair as he regarded the boys before him.

Arthur Kirkland: according to Feliciano, he was the one to start it all off. However, he was also exceptionally clever and creative, gaining top marks in his Literature classes all the time. He also managed to get onto the Academy's course via a rare scholarship in writing and music.

Matthew Williams: Gilbert's ex-boyfriend. Says it all really. He was quiet and was probably coerced into it all. Yet, he was a force to be reckoned with on the ice and he was the sole reason as to why the Academy won the hockey tournament two years running.

Lovino Vargas: well, what to say about him. He had no qualms about tormenting any of them and took great joy in doing so as well. On the other hand, he is the best in his music class, dance class and art class. His brother is also dating Ludwig. His brother would also probably cry if Lovino was expelled, which will then in turn upset Ludwig. Well.

Three intelligent and highly valuable boys to the Academy who decided to do something stupid. Yet, their futures were bright and they all had the potential to do something great with their lives...which, of course, would reflect on the Academy's reputation as well. It would be a shame to expel and lose three wonderful, albeit stupid, boys.

Even if they did deserve it.

Also…Gilbert had begged him not to kick Matthew out of the Academy. This led to Francis and Antonio begging him not to kick out their respective ex-boyfriends out either. It was a tough choice to make, but he made his decision regardless.

Mr. Beilschmidt sighed once more and the clicked his tongue. "Alright, I've decided not to expel you. I shall talk to the school board if any issues arise with my decision, but rest assured, your places here in this Academy are safe." Matthew felt like fainting again. Arthur flushed and relaxed slightly. Lovino visibly deflated, all tension leaving his body. "However," Mr. Beilschmidt continued. "You three shall be punished accordingly so, therefore I will have to suspend you for two weeks, understand?"

"Y-Yes sir!" the three chorused. After all, being suspended was nothing compared to being expelled.

"This means that you shall not be allowed to attend your classes, but do not think of this as a holiday. Your teachers will send you your homework via email and you shall be expected to complete all of it and within set deadlines as well. You're also suspended from your apartments," Mr. Beilschmidt elaborated, gaining three similar looks of horror.

"Y-You're kicking us out?" Matthew whispered, his bear being slowly crushed against his body as is grip tightened.

"Of course I am. It's part of your punishment. Naturally, I would have made amendments if it seemed as if you would encounter problems with finding another place to live, but after reviewing your files, you three appear to be fine. Oh, and not to worry, they'll still be there for you when you return," Mr. Beilschmidt stated. Arthur swallowed hard as he digested the information.

"I-Is it okay to live w-with other students, i-if our 'other accommodation' is...inadequate?" the Brit asked hesitantly, wincing as he finished. Mr. Beilschmidt glanced at him, his eyes cold and strict. It was almost a Level One Glare, but Arthur knew that if it was a Level One Glare, then he would be nothing more than a smoking pile of ash.

"Don't you think that living with other students takes away the point of being suspended?" Mr. Beilschmidt asked, cocking his head to the side. Arthur blinked and licked his lips nervously. Matthew began to pale even further, his skin almost turning the same colour as the bear in his arms. Lovino looked angry, ready to curse Arthur out for his cheek at any moment now.

"P-Please sir, I don't mean to sound cheeky, it's just that I...I feel as if...it's just that..." Arthur trailed off, losing his words and trying hard to think up of an excuse. Mr. Beilschmidt sighed and then nodded curtly, waving off Arthur's stutters.

"As long as you stay away from my son and his friends, then fine, you may stay with another student. And only if that student lives in a different dormitory block to my son, understand?" he stated, giving Arthur a Level Three Glare. "But don't push your luck. If I catch you even thinking about coming near my son again, I will kick you out and I will kick you out _permanently_. Is this understood?"

"Yes sir!" the three chorused again.

Mr. Beilschmidt nodded curtly. "I shall be writing this in your school-records and I will be sending a letter home to your families. I hope this won't be an inconvenience to you three?" he asked, inclining his head slightly.

"N-Not at all...sir," Arthur said, his heart thudding erratically inside his chest. Lovino and Matthew followed his example, shaking their heads and trying their best not to upset the man again. Matthew felt incredibly sick by just being in the same room as Gilbert's father, and his sickness only grew with the added guilt sprinkled on top.

"Very well. Kindly escort yourselves out of my office and then pack up. I want you out of those rooms tonight."

X-x-X-x-X

When Lovino closed the door, he turned and glared at Arthur with hatred.

"Thank you Arthur, for fucking up my school-record!" he snapped, dragging the Brit away from the headmaster's office to avoid any further confrontations. Matthew followed them, his violet eyes flickering from one boy to the other. He hated fights between his friends and he could just taste how awful the fight was going to be between Arthur and Lovino.

Although, Matthew didn't mind being _in_ fights...he just didn't like watching them. It unnerved him to see two people just totally let loose and claw at each other using venomous words and sharp, spiteful tongues. Especially if they had been friends...

"If you haven't noticed, but my school-record isn't exactly spotless now either!" Arthur hissed back, wrenching his arm out of Lovino's grip. The Italian span around, his honey eyes glinting dangerously.

"Fuck your school-record! If it weren't for you, none of this would have happened!" Lovino spat.

Arthur shook his head. "This again? Listen, you were at perfect liberty to say 'no' at anytime during our plans. But you didn't. And remember, this stunt? Was all your doing!" he said, deliberately and slowly.

Lovino growled. "Yeah, and just like you said. _You_ were at perfect liberty to tell me to fuck off! Now I'm suspended and I have to pack my shit up out of my room!"

"You poor sad child. My heart _bleeds_ for you. Fuck off and grow up Lovino. At least you have your Grandfather to protect you, what do I have? Nothing!" Arthur snapped back, clenching his fists and leaning in. Lovino scowled and crossed his arms.

"I don't need protecting! Not from my Grandpa and certainly not from anyone else," he said, narrowing his eyes dangerously. Matthew just sighed; his head and his heart ached from the tense atmosphere, thick with hate and frustration.

"Yeah, you're right. You don't need protecting," Arthur drawled. "But one would have thought that your brother would have least considered protecting you. But no, he ran straight to the headmaster and snitched on all of us!" The Brit's short-fuse had been lit and now he was looking to hurt someone.

An _Italian_ someone.

"Oi! Leave Feli out of this!" Lovino hissed back, his voice threateningly low and dark.

"Why should I? _He_ was the one who got us into this shit!" Arthur retorted.

"Listen. I don't get how Feliciano knew about all of the shit we did. Unless _your_ albino-fucker told his potato-fucking-brother and then—" Lovino drawled, shoving his hands in his pockets. He would have gone on for at least ten minutes, but Matthew found that he couldn't take it anymore.

"Shut up!" the Canadian snapped, his pretty violet eyes darkening to an evil purple colour. Lovino jumped in fright and almost hid behind Arthur, before he remembered that he was pissed off with Arthur and pushed the Brit away. The Italian ignored Arthur's insults and rounded on the pissed off Canadian.

"Don't tell me to shut up! It's all fucking true! Your retarded ex-boyfriend must have blabbed!" Lovino retorted, clenching his fists and gritting his teeth in anger. Arthur rubbed his temples and leant against the wall, feeling very exhausted all of a sudden. Matthew opened up his mouth to retort, when Arthur beat him to the punch.

"And how could he have done that? If you hadn't heard correctly, but Feliciano told your Grandfather this morning. Which means he must have heard about our stunt either last night or this morning, which also means that Gilbert couldn't have told him, because he was, by a certain extent, with us last night and this morning," Arthur said, feeling a mammoth headache bloom up inside his head. Matthew felt a burst of affection towards him before Lovino spoke up and drowned that affection with annoyance.

Lovino turned and narrowed his eyes at him. "Shut your fucking mouth! If you're so fucking smart, then who the fuck told on us? 'Cause it certainly wasn't me!" he snapped, pointing to himself in emphasis. Arthur laughed dryly and gave Lovino a lazy stare.

"Oh? I never said it was...but, you do talk to your brother an awful lot. Maybe you let something slip that you really shouldn't have?" Arthur asked, cocking his head to the side mockingly. Matthew buried his face in his bear's soft body, trying to drown their voices out.

"Hey! Fuck off! Yeah, I told my brother about some of the shit we did, but he promised not to say a word to anyone except that lousy potato-fucking-freak of his! I know my brother and I know that he would never break a promise to me," Lovino said, his eyes blazing with passion and anger. Arthur laughed once more, shaking his head slightly.

"Are you stupid? You're the one who told Feliciano about our plans and ideas, and yes, they are '_our_' plans and ideas, and you expect him not to say a word to anyone? You do realise that this makes it your fault then? Your big mouth is the reason as to why we're suspended," Arthur said, stuffing his hands into his pockets and smirking smugly at the fuming Italian before him.

"Yes, well, if you hadn't come up with the fucking idea of revenge in the first place, then we wouldn't even be in this mess!" Lovino said, pointing an accusatory finger at Arthur. The blond grinned, his teeth appearing pointed and sharp.

"Didn't your mother ever tell you that it's rude to point?" he asked his tone light and mocking.

"Didn't your mother ever tell you that you're kind of a shitty friend?" Lovino asked in kind. Arthur blinked, startled slightly by Lovino's comment. He resisted the urge to flinch at the mention his mother and swallowed hard. Frowning, he balled up his fists and steeled himself for an argument.

"I am not a shitty friend!" he growled, his green eyes shining with something that looked like anger, frustration and..._pain_.

"Yeah you are! You're a fucking awful friend and probably an even worse boyfriend! No wonder Francis cheated on you! It's a fucking wonder that Alfred still puts up with you! You're nothing but a user! You used _us_ to get your shitty revenge plan sorted out. You used Francis until he saw you for what you truly were...and Alfred. Look at what you did to that fucking idiot! You dumped him, then you flirt with him at every chance you get and now you've probably ruined his relationship with Kiku! What is wrong with you?" Lovino demanded, trying hard to ignore the hurt that danced across Arthur's eyes with every word he said.

"Please stop it," Matthew whispered, knowing exactly where this conversation was going.

"Who the bloody hell do you think you are Lovino Vargas? How dare you even insinuate that I am a user and a bad friend and a bad boyfriend? You know absolutely fuck-all about me! Whereas you...well, with you it's just obvious! You're nothing but a sniveling little brat who thinks nothing of hurting his own boyfriend, but when his boyfriend repays him in kind, it's absolutely illegal. Well fuck you, you ignorant little bastard! You deserved to be smacked, and a whole lot more! I don't know why you think so highly of yourself, 'cause believe me Lovino, you are certainly _nothing_ special!" Arthur snapped back, trying to push all of the hurt and the confusion and the anger out through his words.

"Stop it now!" Matthew pleaded, hating how he was being ignored.

"I never said I was anything special, whereas you go around like you're a fucking prince or something! It's high fucking time that someone knocked you off that pedestal you stand on, because believe me, you aren't that much either! I'm actually glad that you caught Francis cheating on you, 'cause at least you have some idea of how much you're worth!" Lovino cried back, his honey-coloured eyes watering.

"Stop!"

"At least I'm worth more than a smack around the head!"

"Shut up, both of you!"

"No, you're just worth a quick fuck and chuck!"

"Quiet!"

"Why you smug little wanke—"

"STOP!"

Matthew was panting softly, his violet eyes shimmering with tears. He didn't want his only friends to fight and fall out. If they did, then who else would he have? His brother was busy trying to make up with Kiku. His ex-boyfriend was probably plotting his death. Ivan had his own problems to sort out. Im Yong Soo was busy at work. His own mother sort of left him to his own devices...

So who else would he have?

"P-Please...just stop fighting! We're supposed to be friends," the Canadian said earnestly. Arthur flushed and looked down, pinching the bridge of his nose wearily. Lovino just snorted and crossed his arms.

"Friends? Fuck that. Friends don't get friends into trouble. Friends don't get friends suspended," Lovino stated. Arthur threw him a nasty glare.

"Friends also don't coerce other friends into dating boys they don't like. Friends don't convince other friends to end their 'revenge-plan' with a _bang_," Arthur said, glancing at Matthew in slight shame. After all, he did have a hand in forcing Matthew to date Lars...

"Well, I guess we aren't friends then?" Lovino said, with a mocking tilt to his head. Arthur nodded.

"Pity...and I had friendship bracelets made and everything," the Brit sighed, his sarcasm getting another rise out of the Italian.

"Guess you'll just have to burn them then, won't you? You know what...fuck this shit! I'm out of here," Lovino hissed, turning on his heel to stalk away. Matthew trembled. Arthur scoffed.

"And where are _you_ going?" the Brit asked scornfully. A small part of him couldn't actually believe that they were falling out. The Brit considered them to be close friends, best friends even. After all they went through...was this really how it was going to end?

Lovino turned back to give Arthur a hateful glare. "I'm going to live with my fucking snitch of a brother and his shitty boyfriend. Thank you Arthur, for forcing me into this!" he called out, giving Arthur a mocking wave that turned into the one-finger salute. Arthur winced and glowered at the Italian's back. He didn't have to live with his brother if he didn't want to...it wasn't like Feliciano was the only one to put up with him, right?

Or perhaps Feliciano really was the only one to put up with Lovino. Except Antonio, but they've broken up. And Arthur and Matthew...except, they've fallen out. Wow. Arthur's eyes widened as he realised that maybe, just maybe, he and Matthew were the only ones that Lovino could actually call friends. And now it's all ruined.

God, he really was a bastard.

"E-Eh Arthur...I'm sorry, but I-I have to go. I-I'll see you around. M-Maybe," Matthew stuttered out. Arthur glanced down at the Canadian who had quietly watched Lovino and Arthur tear away at each others' throats. The Brit just sighed and nodded.

"And where will you go?" he asked, feeling quite idiotic for asking such a dramatic question. Honestly, it wasn't as if they were going off to war or something. Still, Matthew glanced down and shrugged, giving off a small, sad laugh as he did so.

"Alfred's probably. _If_ he's there...maybe Kiku's then if that's the case," he mumbled. Then, with a firm grip on his bear, Matthew glanced up to Arthur and gave him a weak smile. "Bye," he breathed and turned to leave the British boy on his own.

Arthur lingered in the hallway on his own for awhile. The intense feeling of loneliness came crashing down on him as a lump began to form in his throat. The feeling of loneliness wasn't something Arthur was familiar with anymore. It was the feeling he usually associated with living back with his brothers. When Alfred came into his life, the feeling had left...Arthur had thought it had left permanently.

Obviously not.

Then the feeling of loneliness transformed into a feeling of horror, as a sudden thought hit him like a train. If Lovino was going to bunk with his brother (and his brother's boyfriend, by default), and if Matthew was going to live with Alfred (or Kiku, just in case), then that meant the only place left for him to go would be...

...

...

Oh. Dear. Lord.

* * *

><p><strong>So, not as epic as the last chapter...but at they've finally crossed the line that they made. <strong>

**And now they're in trouble. Like, serious trouble...dum, dum, duuuum~!**

**Thanking: **_Lodella, Shadowsamatheexorcist, Katt42, Arra, Nevertrustaprussian, sweetness4theheart, WindMirrorAutumn, KittenNya, ms. nightshade, gil, Kaya Yurushi, Miggery, J. E. McCormickGal, CookieTower, CatherineofAragon, LittleEisenHowerCheesecake, Clozzie, Mikadocon, APH-Indonesia, Her-Bloody-Majesty, FS2011 the real one, -MoonxStar-, dontpokemepleez, JazzyAli, Into The Ramen Bowl We Go, OreoPandas, haganeno56, Silverfern500, Angel of the Midnight Sea, Dissideum, Musingsage, NekOtaku, natcat5, denise134, Amane Haruka, fricken ray of sunshine, alguien22792, envysfangirl, DearDarkHeart _**annnnd **_Maya-chan2007_**!  
><strong>

**Also**_ ms. nightshade_**,** **I am a complete failure in the French language (like Antonio, but less cute), so I used Google translate to understand your review...I don't know how reliable it is, but I saw something about a one-shot...I don't want to get too giddy or excited, but if you kinda implied that you would write a one-shot for me, then that would be absolutely LOVELY and FABULOUS and I will actually give you my future children. If I have any. Seriously, this is as exciting as being promised fan-art~! ^_^**

**Love you all so much! Have my love! Have my cookies!  
><strong>

**Next chapter: More confrontations! 'Cause we all love confrontations! ^_^  
><strong>

**Love City Girl**

**x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x**

**P.S. - totally passed my driving test today; first time; I am awesome; just sayin'!**


	15. How To Get Kicked Out

**Boop. New chapter on a new laptop~!**

**Yah, new laptop people! Got it for my EIGHTEENTH birthday! Literally, eighteen. I have been alive for eighteen years. Jesus.**

**Anyways, moving on...I have discovered how hard it is to write chapters that I don't really want to write. Seriously, I am so eager to write Chapter 16, that this one just seems to be a bit of a fast-paced drag...bit of a contradiction, but it is. Sorry!**

**Ahem. If the angst is a tad much for you in this chapter, particularly the end, then might I suggest reading my fluffy newest one-shot **'A Princess By Any Other Name'**? It's USUK though, just warning ya!**

**Also, wrote the majority of this whilst watching **'Hetalia - Paint It White!'** the dubbed version. My ovaries have literally exploded. The accents! The FRUK! My ovaries are literally no more~! ^_^**

**ENJOY!**

* * *

><p><span>Chapter 15 - How To Get Kicked Out<span>

The first thing Matthew did when he finally reached his room was to attack the wall with all of his might using his hockey stick.

The Canadian knew that his appearance caused people to underestimate just how strong he was, but he rather enjoyed the looks on their faces when they watched him during a hockey match. The amount of strength behind each swing caused large dents in the walls to appear, his bed was dismantled and in a broken heap and the shelves that lined the walls were now in half, the trinkets and books upon them lay in messy piles on the floor.

Matthew knew that Mr. Beilschmidt would be pissed. After all, as if hurting his son wasn't enough, now the Canadian was wrecking his Academy.

In all honesty though, Matthew really couldn't give a flying fuck right now. He was just too pissed off to think clearly.

"Freaking Arthur...and Lovino. This is all their fault. I was completely and utterly normal before _they_ come along, now look at me. I'm going mad and it's entirely their fault, eh!" the Canadian muttered under his breath, ignoring his minor verbal tic as he threw his hockey stick at the window.

...and then proceeded to watch as the stick flew out of the window, which he had left opened by accident. Well, bugger it all then.

His day just couldn't get any worse, could it?

"Fuck. Of course it can't," Matthew sighed, glancing over to his stuffed polar-bear that sat on his bed. The bear's beady glass eyes stared at him and his stitched mouth seemed to bend down in a frown. Matthew could almost feel the judgmental stare and swallowed harshly. "I'm a bad person, aren't I?" he asked it.

"..." the bear replied.

Matthew blinked. "Or maybe I'm just a crazy person. Talking to inanimate objects. I'm turning into Arthur. Next thing you'll know, I'll be drinking tea and pretending that I'm a pirate," he muttered, running a hand through his hair as he remembered the time where Arthur had gotten drunk enough to pretend that the rum he was drinking was tea and that he was holding a 'pirate's only' tea-party with his unicorns.

The one thing that disturbed him most was the fact that Alfred had willingly joined in. Completely sober.

Matthew glanced around the train-wreck that was his room. "God, what am I going to do?" he asked, sighing and glanced over to the stuffed toy.

"..." said the bear.

"Well screw you then," Matthew muttered, throwing his bear a dirty look as the room fell into silence.

God. He had been suspended. He was being kicked out. Arthur and Lovino…weren't exactly on his 'bestest friends' list anymore – not that he had one in the first place to be honest Then there was Gilbert and Lars and _why_? Why has everything become so fucked up for him?

His room was silent, bar the short, shuddering breaths he would take. The atmosphere was thick with his emotions as they radiated from him. He was so caught up in his thoughts that Matthew failed to notice the person waltzing straight into his room.

"Wow. Who knew that a guy like you could do damage like this?" the person from behind him broke the tense silence with ease. Matthew jumped and gasped at the sound, knowing instantly who it was. Turning around, he found himself being hit with a tonne of guilt as he stared into those beautiful eyes, knowing what he had to do next.

"L-Lars!" he stammered, blinking fast and fisting his hoodie tightly. The Dutch boy just eyed the room coolly before taking the cigarette out of his mouth and twisting his neck so he could exhale out of Matthew's room. The Canadian couldn't help but note how sweet the gesture was; he hated the smell of cigarettes and wondered how Lars had known that fact.

"Heard you were suspended," Lars stated, crushing the cigarette in his palm and shoving it in his pocket.

"Y-Yeah, I was going to tell you, b-but...things got a little out of hand," Matthew stammered, folding his hands behind his back nervously. Lars rose an eyebrow questioningly.

"A little?" he asked and then gestured towards the room. "Must be a bit more than 'a little'."

"Ah...yeah," Matthew said lamely. He felt awful. Here was Lars, being all lovely and trying to comfort him and Matthew was planning on breaking up with him. Oh god, when had he turned out to be so mean? Ah, it's entirely Arthur and Lovino's fault! He had been perfectly nice and content being the way he was and now look at him; he was simply awful.

Lars watched him have his mental breakdown and rolled his eyes. Honestly, the boy could be so cute sometimes. "What's wrong?" he asked, peering down at the Canadian with hidden concern.

Matthew bit his lip and glanced up fearfully. "What m-makes you think th-that something is wr-wrong?" the Canadian asked, stalling for as much time as possible. The Dutch boy narrowed his eyes and took a step forward, analysing Matthew's body language closely.

"You wrinkle your nose when you're upset. You're doing it now. So, what's wrong?" he asked again. Matthew's eyes widened, unbeknownst to the fact that he actually wrinkled his nose when he was distressed.

"I-I-I...well, I...I've been suspended...and all of the horrid things I've done...and, I'm j-just such an awful person!" he stuttered and stammered his way through his explanation of _everything_ that has happened over the past couple of weeks. He censored out a few parts that were private to Arthur and Lovino, but he managed to summarise the important parts well. Lars remained silent, making some noises of amusement and interest at certain parts, and downright smirking when he found out that Lovino was the one to turn that bastard Spaniard _red_.

He must shake that boy's hand.

When Matthew had finished, he was out of breath and feeling rather dizzy from the rambling that he did. Lars found it downright adorable.

"It's not that bad," he stated, giving his full honest opinion on what Matthew had done. The Canadian glanced up in shock and shook his head in disbelief.

"Not that bad? I _tormented_ him! I hurt him! Just because he wasn't paying some attention to me!" Matthew tried to emphasise just how awful he was as a human being and that his life here on planet earth was just so miserable and pathetic.

Lars just rolled his eyes. "He was also being a dick. Can't excuse people being dicks now, can you?" he asked. Matthew just made a noise of distress and furiously wiped his eyes with his hoodie sleeves.

"B-But aren't I a dick? I used you to get back at him! Aren't you mad?" the Canadian asked desperately. Lars just shrugged and stuffed his hands in his pockets.

"Not really. After all, you like me for real now, don't you?"

Oh.

...oh.

Oh. God. Oh, fucking hell, oh.

"Matthew? You do like me...right?"

Jesus. God. Allah. Zeus. _Someone_...just kill him now. Please. He deserved it. Seriously.

"U-Um...I do. I do like you Lars," Matthew said hesitantly. Lars raised his eyebrows at the statement.

"I guess there's a 'but' coming after that, huh?" he said, cocking his head to the side, his expression never changing.

Matthew nodded miserably. "I like you...but I'm so tired of using you. I don't love you Lars. I'm sorry," he said quietly, his throat closing up on him and his eyes burning slightly.

Lars just shrugged. "Not your fault. I guess I should have seen it coming. So we're no longer together then," he stated, leaving no room for argument or denial. Not that Matthew really could deny it anyway.

"I'm so sorry," Matthew whispered, his gaze on the ground and growing blurry with the amount of tears collecting in his eyes.

Lars just shook his head and smirked. "Guess I'll have to get you back then," he murmured, mostly to himself, but Matthew knew that he had intended him to hear it too. The Canadian gaped with shock and shook his head quickly.

"I-I'm sorry, I must have heard you wrong! Did you just say what I thought you just said?" Matthew asked nervously, fiddling with the loose strands on the cuffs of his hoodie. Lars merely grinned and shrugged again.

"I don't know, what did I say?" he teased, his eyes glinting playfully. Matthew flushed and ducked his head.

"L-Lars!" he choked out, feeling his face burn.

"Matthew!" Lars mimicked, a small smile playing on his lips. Matthew glared up at him weakly, before sighing and allowing his glare to fade away.

"I still like Gilbert," the Canadian said shortly. Lars nodded.

"But you like me as well?" the Dutch boy asked.

Matthew just half-shrugged and bit his lip. "I...d-don't know," he muttered, which in all honesty, was good enough for Lars.

The Dutch boy hummed thoughtfully and leant down to kiss the Canadian but Matthew flinched as Gilbert's grin and Mr. Beilschmidt's glare popped up into his mind. At the same time. Which was some major mind-fuck for him and caused him to blanch slightly.

The Canadian couldn't help but look away, avoiding Lars' beautiful lips.

"S-Sorry," Matthew whispered, feeling his face burn with embarrassment. The Dutch boy merely smirked and huffed in amusement.

"Wow. You must really like him," he commented, raising a brow as he leant back. The little Canadian boy really was cute.

"L-Lars!" Matthew exclaimed, shocked and mortified that Lars could say it so bluntly. The Dutch boy hummed and ducked down, giving Matthew a sweet kiss on the cheek. He pulled away and caressed Matthew's hair gently before smirking and walking off.

"I'll get you back," the Dutch boy promised. "Besides, I love a good challenge."

X-x-X-x-X

On the other side of campus, Lovino was causing trouble for his neighbours.

He knew that he was throwing the mother of all tantrums, but felt that he had to exert his energy in some way. Lovino couldn't exactly go and take it out on a person; that shit would most definitely get him expelled. Therefore, he decided to take it out whilst he packed up. Exerting energy for Lovino, however, was a loud and lengthy process that annoyed the hell out of everyone who was within ten feet of him.

"Fucking, fucking fuck!" he chanted as he threw his belongings into his single suitcase. Everything that even looked as if it had a hint of Antonio on it was thrown out of the window. Lovino couldn't help but find it very therapeutic as he threw everything with a Spanish flag on it out of his window and onto the growing heap on the ground.

He could hear his neighbours banging on the wall, telling him to shut up, which didn't bode well with the angry Italian.

"Shut up!" a muffled cry came from the room on the right. "I'm trying to study!"

Lovino laughed coldly as he chucked a necklace with a little cross on it out of the window. "Study? Study for what? Your life will end up _shit_ anyway, no matter how hard you fucking 'study'! You could be the best damn doctor in the world, but you'll still be watching people die every day! You could be the fucking president, but you'll still get people trying to assassinate you! So yeah, go ahead, fucking study! See where that gets you! 'Cause I'm living realistically and I fucking know that studying will get you nowhere! So fuck you!"

"Jesus Christ, why don't you just chill a little," came the voice from the room on the left. Lovino laughed again, albeit more hysterically this time.

"Chill? Chill? Oh yes, let's all damn chill! Let's all chill with fucking friends that stab you in the back and fucking boyfriends or ex-boyfriends, or whatever the fuck he is to me right now, and let's just fucking _chill_! Let's just waste our lives fucking chilling with a bunch of two-faced, cock-sucking bastards who have no rights to come and barge into your life and fuck it up! No rights at all!" Lovino ranted, face flushed and eyes burning.

His voice ached and his throat felt like he had swallowed daggers, but he still carried on ranting. It was like a champagne bottle that's finally had the cork removed, erupting with fizzy, tart liquid flying all over the place. The Italian didn't even process what was coming out of his mouth. All he knew was that he was packing his suitcase with a stream of swearwords just flooding from his mouth.

And when he finally stopped there was nothing but an awkward silence, with nothing but the sound of a suitcase being zipped up to break it.

"Woah. Dude. You _really_ need to get laid," came the voice from room on the right.

Lovino threw a hanger at the wall and stormed out of his room, slamming the door behind him.

"Yeah? Yeah? Well fuck you!" he snapped as he left.

X-x-X-x-X

Instead of going to Feliciano's apartment, he went to Ludwig's.

His younger brother spent the majority of his time there anyway, so Lovino figured it made sense to just go there. Also, according to Feliciano, his apartment was apparently being 'renovated'. Lovino didn't know that the Academy did personal renovations for students, but guessed that they made an exception for Feliciano. Because he was the 'favourite'.

Lovino gritted his teeth and stood in front of the door. His single suitcase stood beside him as he knocked quickly. He had to keep calm and cool and collected. Yes, his brother sold him out and became a traitorous traitor, but he could chew him out later when it was too late to kick him out.

Right now, Lovino needed to remain the very picture of relaxed and in control.

The door opened slowly with Feliciano peeking out from behind it hesitantly. His eyes widened with terror when he realised who it was.

"Ah! Ludwig! He's here~!" he shrieked, absolutely terrified at the prospect of being murdered by his own brother. Lovino could only blink when the door was slammed into his face. Which Lovino found to be really fucking rude. So rude, that he felt that he was at perfect liberty to throw all ideas of being calm out of the metaphorical window.

Banging on the door again, Lovino waited for his scaredy-cat brother to open it up again. "Feliciano Vargas! I know you're in there, open the damn door!" he snapped, demonstrating just how pissed off he was by the usage of Feliciano's full name.

"A-Ah! No one's home! Try again tomorrow~!" sang a voice from behind the door. Lovino blinked and then glanced up, wondering who he had pissed off up there to end up being lumbered with such a pathetic brother.

Knowing him, he'd probably pissed off some powerful god. A _Spanish_ god at that too.

"Feliciano! I demand that you open up this fucking door!" Lovino demanded, stamping his foot impatiently. Unfortunately, his rather loud demands caught the attention of Ludwig's neighbours; attention that Lovino would rather much not have at the moment.

"Geeze, that is so rude! Gosh, try being, like, a little louder why don't you? I don't think the entire building heard you!" a voice with a Polish accent snapped. Lovino turned around and saw Feliks Łukasiewicz lingering outside his own apartment. The Italian recognised him as the Polish boy who had been caught trying out a skirt in the nearby mall.

"Why don't you, like, fuck off!" Lovino spat back, clenching his fists and narrowing his eyes. Feliks just rolled his eyes and smirked.

"Good comeback. Aren't you freaking clever," he sniped and stuck his tongue out before returning to his apartment.

Lovino flipped him off and turned back to Ludwig's door. As he reached up to knock on it once more, it opened to reveal the tall blond himself. Lovino decided to knock anyway, punching the German in the chest.

Ludwig didn't even blink. Lovino, unfortunately, felt a couple of his fingers snap painfully.

"Fuck. What took you so long?" the Italian demanded, storming into the apartment, flexing his hand as he did so. Lingering outside the kitchen and fumbling with the bottom of his shirt was Feliciano, swaying slightly from nerves.

Lovino shoved his case into Ludwig's arms and then gave his brother the dirtiest glare he could muster. "You told on us," he hissed darkly.

Feliciano shivered and nodded quickly. "B-But I only did it because h-he made me!" he stammered and pointed up to a familiar yellow bird fluttering around in the background.

Lovino's eye twitched. "Well Gilbird. We meet again," he drawled, crossing his arms and jutting out his chin.

The bird chirped in kind, his black beady eyes looking accusatory and pissed off. "Piyo!" he spat and flew down to perch on Feliciano's head.

"So, the fucking bird told you everything did he?" Lovino asked, cocking his head to the side with a sneer. Feliciano bit his lip and glanced over to Ludwig. The German just rolled his eyes and clamped a hand down on Lovino's shoulder. "Fuck!" the Italian cried in surprise at how strong the grip was.

"You are here because Feliciano asked me to let you in. Upset him and I won't hesitate to throw you out. Understand?" Ludwig asked, his blue eyes hard and cold. Lovino blinked before giving him a mocking salute.

"Yeah, yeah. Whatever," he muttered, shrugging away the German's hand. He eyed his shoulder warily, making a mental note to burn his shirt and bathe in bleach later on. Lovino then shook his head and glanced back up to his brother, who was absentmindedly stroking Gilbird's feathers. "So, the chicken told you 'everything' did he? 'Made' you tattle on us, did he?" Lovino asked scornfully.

Feliciano winced. Ludwig rolled his eyes and stalked off, carrying Lovino's suitcase in tow.

"I'm really, really sorry! Please don't hurt me! I just got so worried when Ludwig's brother's bird came and told me that you were going to hurt Gilbert and Antonio and Francis and you were going to do it in a really mean way and I just couldn't let you do that because I know you love Antonio and that you would never hurt him so I went to Ludwig's _padre_ and told him what you were going to do and then I ended up telling him everything that you did and yes, I admit that it wasn't the best thing to do in the world and I ended up telling him everything too late 'cause you had already tied Antonio up to that post, but hey, at least now you can start making things better between the two of you...well, once your suspension is over and Ludwig's _padre_ finally lets you within five feet of them that is~! Oh, and Gilbird is a canary, not a chicken," Feliciano said without pausing for breath.

Lovino blinked, his brain feeling quite sore at all the information that Feliciano had tried to feed him. All he managed to process, however, was: "You can understand that bird?" he asked dumbly. Feliciano huffed as his brother zoned in on the unimportant stuff, as per usual.

"Of course I can~! Who can't?" he asked. Lovino's eye twitched.

"Uh...me?" he said, pointing to himself in emphasis. Feliciano just waved it off.

"He probably doesn't want you to understand him then~!" he merely said, glancing up to blow a kiss to the fluffy bird.

Lovino puffed out his cheeks in exasperation. Clearly, he was the only sane human being left in the world.

"You're a fucking idiot. You're all fucking idiots. Why am I surrounded by fucking idiots?" Lovino asked himself. "In fact, why am I even alive right now?" he wondered, glancing up towards the ceiling and the obvious Spanish Gods that he had clearly pissed off. Ludwig overheard him complaining and returned to living room to see Lovino glaring at the ceiling and Feliciano making kissy faces to Gilbert's bird.

The German shook his head and folded his arms. Once again, he questioned why he was dating an _Italian_. An Italian with a _brother_.

"Brother! That's a terrible thing to ask! You're alive because life is wonderful~! That, and I refuse to let you die without making up with Antonio!" Feliciano stated seriously. So seriously, in fact, that Lovino _almost_ believed him.

"Feli, you have no idea how much I wish you to die right now," he stated dryly. Gilbird glared at him. Feliciano gasped in shock, clutching at his heart.

"Brother! That's awful!" he cried. Lovino shrugged.

"It's also the truth..." he muttered, ignoring Gilbird's glare and Feliciano's crocodile tears. Lovino instead turned to glare at Ludwig who was still lingering in the door way. Lovino sneered at him.

"What do you want?" he snapped. Ludwig quirked a brow at his waspish behaviour.

"I guess this is a bad time to tell you that your Vespa is still in my car, _ja_?" he asked, cocking his head to the side before retreating to the kitchen. Feliciano had made pasta-shaped cookies earlier and damn, can that boy cook! Meanwhile, Lovino's mood did a 180° turn.

"M-My...b-baby?" he asked, his eyes widening with disbelief and his fists clenched hard enough to draw blood. "My baby is still in your fucking car?" he demanded hotly, his entire body tensing up with anger.

"Not much of a baby if you forgot about it, hmmm?" Ludwig called back. Lovino was about to go and give him a piece of his mind when Feliciano quickly jumped in his way. Gilbird tweeted sadly. He had been looking forward to seeing Lovino getting beaten up by his master's younger brother.

"No~! Wait a minute brother! Don't hurt him, violence never solves anything, remember?" Feliciano begged, holding up his hands before Lovino. The older Italian scoffed and threw a dirty look to Gilbird, who was quite happily chirping away with a smug look on his face.

"I don't need violence; I just need a fucking gun!" Lovino snapped. Feliciano gasped at the horrific images of his brother shooting his boyfriend.

"That _is_ violence!" he cried, shaking his head tearfully. The older Italian faltered slightly as Feliciano's voice began to waiver. God, it just sucked when Feliciano cried.

"But it'll make me feel better," Lovino huffed as he reached out to awkwardly pat his brother on the head. Inwardly, he cheered with glee as he managed to knock Gilbird off Feliciano's head. The bird spat out a hateful 'PIYO!' to him, before flying off to the kitchen, intent on stealing some cookies.

Feliciano brightened up immediately at his brother's touch and smiled beautifully. "Oh brother~! I have something better for you that will surely make you feel good~!" he said happily. Lovino's eye twitched.

"I swear to god, if you say pasta, then I'll_—_" he started, his tone low and full of warning. Feliciano shook his head with a smile and twirled around to fetch something from atop the TV. Lovino groaned, knowing exactly where this was heading.

"No. No more chick-flicks! No more '_P.S. I Love You_'! No more '_Love Actually_'! And I hate '_500 Days of Summer_'!" Lovino said hotly. He actually liked the last movie, but Feliciano didn't need to know that. Nor did he need to know that Lovino sympathized more with Summer than Tom.

It'll probably just make the younger Italian cry again.

"But brother~! I have '_Mean Girls_'!" Feliciano said wryly, producing the DVD from behind his back. Lovino froze momentarily. He eyed the DVD, his gaze running over each girl on the front. Oh, fuck. His gaze flickered up to Feliciano's knowing grin and that's when he knew that he was officially fucked. Feliciano just knew him too well.

Fucking bastard.

"...fine."

X-x-X-x-X

When Arthur finally reached his room, he immediately went to his wardrobe, pulled out two medium-sized suitcases and threw them on his bed.

Then, he proceeded to just stare at them for a little while, whilst giving himself a little hug and sighing with frustration.

He stood there for a while, letting his emotions bubble over into silent sobs. He was suspended. His ex-boyfriend hates him. His friends hate him. His best friend might as well hate him too. He's probably lost out on ever gaining a good reference from the Academy for future job prospects. No one wishes to see him, let alone talk to him...

And even his unicorns look like they're about to cry.

However, he was British and as a good, proud Briton, he decided to swallow his pain and stiff his upper lip. As Arthur buried his emotions, he set to work on packing away all of his belongings. Besides, he had bigger problems to get through anyway.

Such as how was he supposed to fit all of his unicorns into two medium sized suitcases? He had just managed to squeeze his Limited Edition Sunshine Unicorn besides his Limited Edition Moonbeam Unicorn when he remembered that he had thirteen other unicorns to make room for. And then there were the pillows and the books and the reusable stickers...

Then there was the biggest dilemma of all: to bring or not to bring the unicorn that Francis had bought him?

The Brit sighed as he regarded the stuffed creature, looking very sad and dusty in the wardrobe. It was a soft brown colour with a beautiful baby-pink mane with a matching tail and hooves. Arthur picked it up and squashed it to his chest. He took a deep breath and shivered as the scent of Francis assaulted his senses: icing sugar and primroses.

Arthur felt his eyes sting as he lifted up one of the hooves; Francis had a little message stitched on it, simply saying ~_Love Francis~_, but for some reason the message made Arthur feel all emotional and warm his finger over the professional stitching, Arthur frowned and then quickly threw the unicorn into his suitcase, before his mind rebelled and told him that what he was doing was stupid and wrong and that he was acting like a love-struck baby.

Then, he gently pulled the posters down and threw them on top, careful to avoid any tears in the paper. After all, it just would do to have Twilight Sparkle ripped in half due to his carelessness. Then there were the stickers to peel off; with the same care and attention, Arthur peeled Princess Celestia and her fellow ponies off the wall. He remembered a lengthy argument he had with Alfred once, regarding the matter of whether or not the 'My Little Pony' ponies were unicorns or not. Arthur ended the argument by smothering the American with a pillow, declaring that they were 'fucking magical' so they can 'be whoever the fuck they wanted to be'.

Arthur smiled sadly, wishing that he was that magical. What he wouldn't give for a spell that allowed him to just leave the Academy and go and be whoever he wanted in the real world. Sighing, the Brit spent his time removing his precious unicorn collection from his room and into his two suitcases. He figured that he would have to make do without a change of clothes for the next fortnight because there was no way, in hell, that he was leaving behind one of his unicorns. As the saying goes: a good soldier never leaves a man behind.

Arthur supposed that in this case, the saying would be: an emotionally-unstable boy never leaves his only comfort in life behind.

Once the room was unicorn-free, Arthur then had the difficulty of actually closing his suitcases. Not even sitting on them whilst simultaneously zipping them up worked. He was left with the realisation that at least one of his stuffed unicorns had to be left behind. Flipping open the lids, Arthur pulled out the three biggest plush toys and examined them.

There was the unicorn that Francis had given him, the Limited Edition Moonbeam pony that Alfred had given him...and the third pony that he had won at a fair, whilst pretending that he was winning it for his girlfriend. It had been a very embarrassing afternoon for him, considering he was actually on a date with Alfred. The American never said anything, but his quiet chuckles had said volumes.

Arthur sighed as he regarded the ponies. He could always leave Francis' unicorn behind. After all, it probably had French germs on it. And even if French germs didn't exist, it still came with a whole baggage of uncomfortable memories.

Then there was the pony from Alfred. But just looking at it made him feel awfully guilty. Just thinking about Alfred made him feel guilty.

And then there was the pony who was completely neutral and without any negative attachments. An overstuffed toy with plastic eyes and a plastic smile.

Arthur sighed and then made his choice. It was an awful choice to make, considering the fact that he was basically abandoning one of his beloved ponies behind. He carefully placed the pony inside the wardrobe and wrapped it up in a soft towel to keep it warm. Biting back guilt, he closed the wardrobe quickly and buried the discomforting emotions he was feeling.

In the end, Arthur managed to close his suitcases fully and bid his apartment farewell. He had thankfully called up a taxi-company, booking a ride from the Academy to his new...lodgings. He dragged his suitcases down to the front of his dormitory building and then flipped out his phone to check the time. He was mildly surprised to find a text from Kiku on there, and clicked to open it.

_It would please me greatly if you were to come to my room for a small talk, please. Thank you, Kiku._

Only Kiku would be this polite to someone who he was obviously pissed off with. Only Kiku would say 'please' twice in a sentence. Only Kiku would sign the end of his text with his name. Only Kiku.

Arthur bit his lip and tucked his phone, feeling slightly bitter towards the Japanese boy who was always so well-mannered, who would never jeopardise his future by bullying his ex-boyfriend, who everyone liked and loved. Who had Alfred _Fucking_ Jones as a boyfriend.

The British boy shook his head free of such thoughts when he saw his taxi pull up. He thanked the driver for turning up and gave him the address for his destination.

Arthur left his suitcases with the taxi driver and climbed in. Arthur absentmindedly heard the driver struggling with his cases and was half-tempted to inform him that they were filled with plushies and posters of unicorns. He didn't though; he just leant back into the tattered leather seats and sighed.

Once the taxi driver managed to squeeze both of Arthur's cases in, he clambered into the front seat and started up the car, the vibrations thrummed through Arthur's body, giving him a slight headache.

When the taxi had left the Academy, an intense feeling of sickness and apprehension flooded Arthur's mind. He felt physically sick and he could feel his palms grow hot and clammy. Jesus Christ. This was it. It was either the streets or...or this. Fuck.

Arthur watched the scenery fly past as the taxi steadily made its way towards The Worst Place On Earth. Arthur figured that the place deserved its title due to one thing and one thing only_—_it was a literal hell on earth. Arthur spent the first fifteen years of his life there and it _sucked_. Plain and simple.

He never knew how he managed to survive in a house where everyone hated him. Well, to be more precise: where one person hated him, another person ignored his existence altogether and the last person tried and failed to create peace for him. Oh, and let's not forget the certain sister who stormed out five years ago and never returned.

Arthur bit his lip and trembled in fear. His stomach twisted itself into knots as he saw The Worst Place On Earth in the distance. It didn't look that bad. It was just an average two-story house with four bedrooms and two toilets. Except, Arthur hardly ever saw his bedroom. He mostly slept on the roof where he felt most safe. And the toilets were even worse. One of them had belonged to his sister due to the fact that she owned two X-chromosomes instead of one.

In order to get to the other toilet, Arthur would have had to survive the inevitable _war_ between his three other brothers to see who would get it first.

Which Arthur never won.

And oh god. Oh. God. There it was. Arthur felt himself throw up a little as the taxi came to a stop in front of it. He honestly felt that his stomach was twisting itself inside out; his intestine were strangling each other and his heart was thudding so hard, Arthur reckoned it was trying to escape via his chest.

As he climbed out of the taxi, Arthur eyed the building with a look of resignation. Arthur bit his lip, knowing that he was fucked. Royally and utterly fucked. He paid the taxi fare and watched mournfully as his last chance of escape drove away from him. The Brit shivered slightly as he turned to face the house that he would be reduced to living in for the next couple of days.

He point-blank refused to stay here for the entirety of the fortnight. He would have to find a hotel or something to tide him over the next couple of weels.

Heaving up his bag and managing to take hold of bother suitcases, Arthur dragged them behind him and slowly made his way up the path. It was a daunting experience, even worse than the one he had when he went to nick his brother's Viagra. Quickly glancing behind him, Arthur entertained the thought of just running away.

But that would make things worse. Arthur wasn't the type to run from his problems. But he also wasn't stupid. He seriously wouldn't hesitate to run away if things did get seriously bad at his brother's house. It was why he had left in the first place.

Arthur reached the door and gave it three quick taps. Then he waited. He could distinctly hear three loud voices from inside the house. Arthur swallowed hard and braced himself for the worst. The door swung open and in front of him stood Seamus.

Ah. Arthur sighed and glanced up to the sky:_ what kind of fuckery is this?_

To be presented with the one brother that ignored his general existence was surely the fault of some spiteful deity above. A deity that was most likely _French_ too.

"Who's at the fucking door?" came the very obvious voice of Andrew. Arthur licked his lips nervously as Seamus regarded him coldly.

"No one," he stated and then slammed the door in Arthur's face.

Well. That was fucking rude. Arthur knocked on the door again, shivering slightly as a cold gust of wind blew down his ears. Hugging himself, Arthur tried to not look as pathetic as he had beforehand. Once again, three loud voices could be heard from inside.

_'Who the fuck is that? Thought you said there was no one there?'_

_'There isn't. Ignore it.'_

_'Seamus...'_

_'Obviously there is, 'cause it's fucking knocking!'_

_'Well, I suppose 'it' would be a good term to describe him...'_

_'Oh Seamus! It's...Ar—don't you give me that look! I'll answer the door!'_

Ah, Cade. Arthur could always rely on him to take up the role of mother hen. The small Brit smiled softly and then waited patiently for his brother to open the door. When Cade did, all Arthur could do was resist the temptation of crying. Last time he came, he felt more confident in confronting them as he hadn't planned on staying with them.

Now look at him, crawling back to the last place he could call home, with his tail between his legs. He must have looked fucking pathetic.

"Arthur, what on earth are you doing here?" Cade asked, utterly bewildered. Last time, Arthur had come alone with no baggage whatsoever. Now his little brother had returned with a couple of suitcases in tow and a shockingly sombre expression on his face.

Arthur glanced down and sighed. "Got suspended," he muttered, fidgeting slightly. Cade's eyes widened and his mouth fell open. Arthur hoped that Andrew and Seamus hadn't overheard, otherwise it would be nothing but hell for him. They'd probably slam the door in his face for being such a fucked up failure...

He wouldn't blame them. He was a fucked up friend and an even worse boyfriend. Arthur snorted with self-depreciation, _and don't even get me started on what kind of ex-boyfriend I am_, he thought, twisting his fists together.

"Oh...Arthur," Cade breathed, wondering what the hell their brother had been up to at school to warrant a suspension. He supposed it was genetics. Andrew was expelled for smuggling alcohol. Seamus was expelled for vandalism. Aislinn just walked out to follow her brother.

Only Arthur and he had actually remained successful with their schooling. Until now.

"I know...just...you don't have to put up with me for long...just a couple of days, I swear! I'll leave after that and you won't even see, nor hear me!" Arthur said quickly, his eyes portraying his desperation. He really, really didn't want to live on the streets. It wasn't like living with his brothers was any better, but at least he would have a warm bed and a clean toilet in that equation. Cade felt his stomach churn and his heart clench as Arthur pleaded with him.

Arthur sounded terrified. Cade couldn't blame him really. There were few things that he could blame Arthur for, but being scared of his family just wasn't one of them.

He felt sick as he realised that he could have prevented all of this...but he hadn't.

"Come in. Your room is still the same. No one's been in there since you...well. Left. A-And there's still some dinner left, i-if you want it...I-I'll just go and explain it to...to, you know," Cade said, his voice full to the brim of emotion. Arthur nodded shortly and quietly crossed the threshold, dragging his cases behind him. Cade watched him silently, as the small blond slowly made his way up the stairs.

Closing the door, Cade fell against it and placed a hand over his mouth. He dreaded telling Andrew and Seamus. He dreaded their reactions of Arthur being home once more. Cade didn't know whether Arthur's presence could fix their family or break it once more. But he was here now, so perhaps Cade could salvage something of their relationship...

Maybe, just maybe they could be a family again...

* * *

><p><strong>*has P!nk in her head*<em> In our family portrait, we look pretty happy, we look pretty normal, let's go back to that<em>~!**

**Now, I know many people were averse to Arthur staying with his family, but trust me. I have a cunning plan for this. Also, forgive me for portraying Arthur's brothers like this. They don't represent Scotland, Ireland and Wales at all. They're just Andrew, Seamus and Cade.**

**Ahem. So, many thanks to: **_Gigi x3, AnnoyingButLovable, Miggery, DisturbingBunnyRabbit, Haluwasa2, Hinata28h, Chibi Russia-Kun, Lodella, NekOtaku, xXIceXxShatteredXx, YumikoSound, Arra, InTheAsylum, KittenNya, Maiya123, APH-Indonesia, JazzyAli, dontpokemepleez, alguien22792, fricken ray of sunshine, Her-Bloody-Majesty, saichin, MissTaken, Kaya Yurushi, DanzQueenB, Lyrics-For-The-Mind, ms. nightshade, envysfangirl, AmayahAki, Silverfern500, denise134, haganeno56, Amane Haruka, LittleEisenHowerCheesecake, Wicked Winter, Musingsage, Iwillendyou _**annnd** _ Mikadocon_**!  
><strong>

**Perty please REVIEW~!**

**Next chapter will be awesome. For reals.**

**Love City Girl**

**x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x**

**P.S. - Thank you to everyone who congratulated me on passing my driving test! Love you all! ^_^**


	16. How To Get A Rude Awakening

**Whattup! Kay, so first off I hope you're all still reading this.**

**Also, not gonna lie...this story is getting much more deep than I originally thought...like seriously, when I first planned this out, it was going to be twenty chapters, max...and then I started writing it and the characters just refused to listen to me and the whole thing just changed! So yeah, enjoy my story that's now getting deep.**

**I hope you're all still with me~!**

**I kinda get the feeling that because I update once a month, people are losing interest...DON'T DO THAT~! Please? ^_^  
><strong>

**ANYWAYS! Secondly, I hope you enjoy this chapter, 'cause I enjoyed writing it~!**

**ENJOY!**

* * *

><p><span>Chapter 16 - How To Get A Rude Awakening<span>

When Lovino woke up, it was to the smell of burning omelette.

He growled in disgust when he saw that there was actual smoke building up in the air. The Italian remembered the last time he had gone into the kitchen when this kinda shit went down and felt somewhat wary of repeating the experience. However, Lovino knew that a big brother has to do what a big brother has to do, which is to protect his little brother's virtue, whether said little brother wants him to or not.

He shot up from the sofa, where he found himself covered in Ludwig's coat and surrounded by tubs of Ben & Jerry's. Lovino knew that last night had been good because '_Mean Girls_' was still playing on the TV. Throwing the dirty bastard's coat off of him, and mentally reminding himself to bathe in bleach later on in the day, Lovino charged into the kitchen, intent on doing some castrating.

Castrating Ludwig to be more specific, not his brother. Lovino knew that there was still a fleeting chance that Feliciano might end up with a girl and Lovino is not _that_ cruel as to take that chance away from him. The German, on the other hand, had limited himself to just the male population. Lovino figured that it was because he's fucking weird and selfish like that.

The Italian snorted. Whatever. Like anyone would willingly _want_ to screw Ludwig, male or female. Apart from his brother, but Feliciano had always been a bit strange.

Like the proverbial bull in a china shop, Lovino stormed into the kitchen and blanched at the scene before him. He choked and gagged, slapping his hand to his eyes.

"What the fuck?" the older Italian snapped, feeling as those his eyes were desperate need of being clawed out.

"Brother~! Why do you always have to interrupt us~?" Feliciano asked, his voice slightly muffled as his face was pressed against a wall. Ludwig being the one to pin him against it, using his own body. In Ludwig's hand was a whisk. And around the whisk, was Feliciano's curl.

Lovino gagged as his pondered the whereabouts of Ludwig's other hand.

The German was wearing nothing but a pair of black sweatpants, his tank-top having been thrown to the other side of the room. Feliciano, on the other hand, was wearing a pair of bootleg jeans and an crisp white oxford-shirt which had all of the buttons undone. His brother was also wearing an apron. A pink apron. With hearts on them. That had '_F+L_' inside of them.

Lovino didn't know which was worse: the position he found them in or the clothes they were wearing.

Instead of deliberating over this fact, Lovino decided to just throw the nearest thing he could find at them. Unfortunately, this turned out to be a box of Coco-Pops. The box completely missed them, but it had the desired effect. Ludwig jumped away from Feliciano once he saw the state of his kitchen.

The German growled. Coco-Pops. Coco-Pops _everywhere_.

"Dammit Lovino! Clear this mess up now!" Ludwig ordered, waving the whisk around threateningly.

"No. It's your kitchen. Your Coco-Pops. You clean it up," Lovino stated moodily. He had envisioned a sort of different morning to this one. His preferable morning included less Ludwig and more food. As of now, there was still a Ludwig and the only food available was an omelette on the verge of catching fire and the Coco-Pops on the floor. Lovino wrinkled his nose, neither sounded very appetising.

"Lovino. This is _my_ apartment and what I say, goes! Now clean it up!" the German demanded. Lovino stuck out his tongue and flipped him off. Feliciano sighed and shook his head. Ludwig just pinched the bridge of his nose. It was like Gilbert had moved in with him all over again!

"L-Ludwig? Are you okay?" Feliciano asked hesitantly, reaching out to tug the German's sleeve. Ludwig yanked his arm away before he could though and glowered at him.

"_Nein_! He will clean this up! Even if I have to make him clean this up!" Ludwig commanded, before storming out of the room to find his cleaning supplies so that Lovino could clean up his own mess up. Lovino watched him leave with a sneer.

Feliciano watched him go with a mournful sigh and nudged a lonely little Coco-Pop with his foot. "You always upset him..." he murmured. Lovino scoffed and looked away with a scowl.

"Clearly I don't upset him enough! He's still fucking here!" he snapped. Feliciano glanced at him, frowning a little.

"But it's his apartment. Of course he'd still be here," he stated, furrowing his brows with confusion.

"Not here literally! I mean here, as in he won't fucking stay out of our lives! And what the fuck were you just doing with him a moment ago!" Lovino hissed. Feliciano flinched slightly, before placing his hands on his hips and sighed sadly. Lovino wrinkled his nose at how odd the noise sounded coming from such a happy person.

"But I want him in my life! I love him, okay? And he's been really nice letting you stay here for the night! And I was praising him for making breakfast!" Feliciano argued back. Lovino quirked a brow and shuddered.

"Praising him? Is that what you're calling it now? For making fucking breakfast? Are you insane?" he asked, his eyebrows going higher and higher with each question he tossed at Feliciano.

"Yes, I was praising him for making breakfast! And I'm not insane! You're being really mean Lovi!" Feliciano cried, half-hoping that Ludwig would hear him and come running back to make Lovino stop.

Lovino flinched at the nickname and sighed. "Alright, alright. I'm sorry. I don't intend to be mean, okay? I'm sorry," he said, holding his hands up in surrender. Feliciano beamed at him, all too eager to forgive and forget.

"It's okay~! I love you Lovi~!" he sang, giving his brother a lovely smile. Lovino just shook his head despairingly and rolled his eyes.

"Don't call me _that_. You too. Bastard," he muttered and glanced away, hating it when his brother was just too nice to him.

Feliciano beamed and perched on the table, deciding to play with the Coco-Pops that had fallen on it. He rearranged them into a little heart and smiled when he realised that the heart looked like a pasta-shape. Lovino quirked a brow and rolled his eyes.

"Idiot," he murmured fondly. Then looked around the room frowning slightly. "Hey, where's that damn bird gone?" he asked, wondering why he hasn't got attacked yet by Gilbert's stupid pet.

Feliciano shrugged and grinned again. "I think he's gone back to Gilbert. He must have missed him~" he said, cocking his head slightly.

Lovino smirked. "Thank god for that," he muttered. Feliciano just hummed with amusement.

"By the way Lo-vi-_no_," he said, emphasising Lovino's name with a pointed look. "Kiku wants to talk to you tonight~! Sounded really important too. I can take you to his apartment later, if you'd like~?" he said, trying to be helpful.

Lovino scowled. "Why the fuck would I want to talk to him?" he asked. Feliciano frowned.

"Lovino! Kiku is a really nice person! He probably heard about what happened and wants to help you~!" he said, tugging on his brother's sleeve lightly. Lovino pushed him away and sneered.

"Why the fuck would he want to help me? And how's it his business?" he snapped back.

"Brother! Don't be mean! Kiku probably just wants to help you out of the kindness of his own heart!" Feliciano argued back. Lovino blinked and then rolled his eyes, deeming the conversation as doomed before it actually started.

"Fuck's sake. You know I hate people that butt into my business," he muttered darkly, leaning against the wall with a sulk. Feliciano cocked his head to the side and hummed thoughtfully.

"I know, but he's really not butting into your business. He's just offering to help you. Besides, Antonio looks awfully lonely without you," he sighed sadly. Somehow, this struck a chord in Lovino, causing him to clench his fists tightly and grit his teeth.

"Then why don't you go and fucking comfort him!" he spat. Feliciano frowned.

"But it's not me he wants..." he trailed off. Lovino scoffed.

"Bet you wish it was though," he mumbled. Feliciano furrowed his brows and bit his lip, half-confused and half-frightened. Antonio swore that he hadn't told Lovino...

Still, couldn't hurt to make sure. "What are you talking about?" the younger Italian asked, feigning ignorance. He was awfully good at feigning ignorance. It was a skill that many people overlooked in him and Feliciano guessed that it was a good thing.

"Nothing," Lovino sighed, pushing himself off the wall and slouching off to collapse on Ludwig's sofa.

He rubbed his temples as he briefly wondered the consequences of asking Feliciano about his past with Antonio. It would probably hurt to know the truth, but at least he would know...and it did bring warmth to his chest when he thought of how Antonio had said that he turned his brother down in favour of him. Only for that warmth to turn to ice when he remembered Antonio saying he regretted his decision.

Fuck.

_What should I do...?_

_Ask him. It would hurt._

_Don't fucking ask him. It won't end well._

_Just ask him! Then you can go and ask Bella about her and Antonio too._

_Why the fuck would he do that?_

_Because then he would know the full story!_

_Fuck off! He'll just get bloody hurt!_

_Don't be a selfish bastard!_

_Fuck off, you twat!_

_Make me!_

_Wanker._

"—ino? Lovino? Are you okay?"

The older Italian blinked, jumping slightly when he saw his brother's face mere inches from his own.

"Fucking hell, Feli! What the fuck?" he snapped, scrambling up the sofa to get away. His brother cocked his head and frowned.

"You were spacing out. I thought something was wrong with you because you never space out. What's wrong?" Feliciano asked. Lovino shook his head and waved him off. The voices in his head were fucking disturbing enough without considering their topic of conversation.

"Nothing. Just...forget it," he muttered, waving Feliciano away from him.

"There's nothing wrong with you? Good. Then you can clean up the kitchen," Ludwig said, as he entered the room with a dustpan and brush. Feliciano pouted and skipped up to his boyfriend with a smile.

"Ludwig~! You can't make my big brother clean up the kitchen! He doesn't feel well," he said, wrapping his arms around Ludwig's well-muscled broad shoulders. The German man flushed at the contact and cleared his throat nervously.

"You heard him though, he is fine. So he can clean up!" he ordered. Feliciano sighed and nuzzled in close to Ludwig's chest.

"But Ludwig~!" he said, gazing up at the German through thick, brown lashes. Ludwig averted his eyes, trying to resist Feliciano's seductive manner.

"Feliciano! This is my flat and I say that he has to clean up! Why is he even here? Why can't he stay somewhere else? There's a perfectly fine hostel just up the road!" Ludwig said firmly, placing the dustpan and brush onto a nearby coffee-table, so that he could fold his arms and look intimidating.

Lovino thought he looked stupid. Feliciano thought he looked handsome.

"He can't stay anywhere but here! He's my brother!" Feliciano cried, waving his hands in the air as if to emphasise his point.

Lovino scoffed and then blinked, as he processed his brother's words. He really didn't have to stay here. There really was another place to go! How had he not thought of this before? "Feli? How about I live in your apartment?" he asked, turning around to face his brother. Only to choke on his spit in shock at the scene he was witnessing. "Oi! _Bastardo_, stop molesting that potato's freaking neck!"

Feliciano looked up from where he was giving a red-faced Ludwig a beautiful hickey on his throat and a small smile on his lips. The German was stood like a statue. Lovino scoffed with disgust. For a guy who liked to keep BDSM magazines under his bed, he sure was prudish when it came to PDA.

"Brother~! I'm not molesting him!" Feliciano frowned, reaching up to curl his arms around Ludwig's strong neck. The German just remained frozen.

Lovino rolled his eyes. "Che, whatever. If you wanna go around sucking on potato-necks, then fine! Go right ahead. Just don't come crying to me when you get a disease!" he snapped, before returning his attention to the TV, forgetting why he had opened his mouth in the first place.

Ludwig snapped out of his frozen state at the mention that he could have diseases. He forced Feliciano's octopus-arms away from him and stood his ground. "Oi, I do not have diseases. If you are not happy here, then please, feel free to move out!" he snapped.

Lovino perked up as he remembered his idea from before. "Fuck off potato-fucker! Feli, can I move into your apartment, or is it still being renovated?" he asked, as nicely as he could. Feliciano still whimpered and hid behind his German boyfriend.

"W-Well...the th-thing is...ah, you see...ummm," Feliciano fiddled with his fingers as he avoided looking into Lovino's eyes. The older Italian turned around fully, quirking an eyebrow as his brother trembled with nerves. He narrowed his eyes; he could tell that Feliciano had done something bad.

"Feli," Lovino began slowly, "what did you do?"

Ludwig glanced down at the younger Italian who was hiding behind his back. He sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose. "You haven't told him?" Feliciano shook his head. Ludwig frowned and turned his attention to the older Italian. "He moved out of his room. It's not being 'renovated'. It's merely being given to someone else."

Lovino blinked. Feliciano whimpered.

There was a beat of silence.

"Given to someone else?" Lovino repeated, his voice strained and tight. "To who? And where, Mr. Potato-Head, is he moving to?"

Ludwig twitched at the name and steeled himself for the inevitable reaction. "He's moving in with me. Then, after I've finished my last year at the Academy, we'll move to a nearby apartment so Feliciano can finish his studies."

Another beat.

Feliciano nearly fainted.

Ludwig gritted his teeth.

Lovino just blinked.

Then...

...

...

...a DVD copy of '_He's Just Not That Into You_' came flying at Ludwig's head. Closely followed by a tub of Ben & Jerry's and the spoon that Lovino ate it with. Ludwig, however, using his honed skills that had been built up from living with Gilbert and dealing with Lovino, managed to dodge the oncoming attack smoothly. Feliciano cried out in shock, grasping at his hair and shaking his head desperately.

"Stop, stop, stop~!" he cried out. Ludwig growled at how easily Feliciano had backed down. The boy really needed to learn how to stand up to his older brother. Otherwise their relationship just wouldn't go anywhere.

"You. Bastard. Potato. Fucking. Cradle. Snatching. Mother. Fucker!" Lovino gritted out between throwing stuff at Ludwig. He wasn't even aware of what little sense he made; as long as he was throwing stuff at Ludwig, he truly didn't care what came out of his mouth!

Ludwig's honed skills came to a standstill when a copy of Gilbert's porn, which had probably been left to rot under the sofa, came flying out of nowhere and hit him straight in the face. Lovino laughed hysterically, whilst Feliciano chewed desperately on his lip.

"P-Please stop, I don't like it when you fight," the younger Italian said, reaching over to peel Gilbert's porn book off Ludwig's face using a tissue. Feliciano wrinkled his nose as he then threw the book in the bin, briefly wondering if he should set the thing on fire.

Then he remembered that Ludwig banned him from touching matches and pouted sadly.

Lovino's hysterical laughter died down to a few chuckles, which eventually died down to a frightened squeak when he realised how pissed off Ludwig looked. The German's eyes were narrowed to two, light blue lines that glared murderously. His fists were clenched and his body was taunt and shaking.

Lovino edged away slightly. "Honestly bastard! You have no sense of fucking humour! Besides, you should be grateful that I threw that book at you! Now you have something else to concentrate your pervy-urges on, instead of my brother!" he spat.

Ludwig growled and snapped.

"That's it! I've had enough! Feliciano, your brother moves out today!" he commanded and stalked out of the room, intent of finding the nearest bottle of bleach he could get, in order to wash his face. Lovino flipped him off behind his back and flopped down on the sofa.

"Your boyfriend is a fucking jerk!" he snapped. Feliciano bit his lip, torn between going after Ludwig and staying with his brother.

"I-I can convince him to let you stay, if you want! I'm very good at convincing people~!" Feliciano declared, trying and failing to be encouraging.

Lovino scoffed. "If your 'convincing' is anything like your 'praising', then I really don't want to know," he stated. "Especially if your 'convincing' involves you wearing that goddamn tacky apron!"

Feliciano pouted and crossed his arms. "This apron is not tacky! Ludwig bought it for me for my birthday!"

"Well, no wonder it's a crime against fashion! A fucking potato chose it!" he snapped back. "It's even worse than the one with fucking birds all over it!"

"Lovi! Stop being mean! It'll be harder to convince Ludwig to let you stay if you don't start being nice!" Feliciano scolded him. Lovino sighed and sat up to face his brother properly.

"Feliciano, maybe I don't want to stay here. You ever thought about that?" the older Italian suggested. Feliciano gaped at him and sniffed.

"You don't want to be here with me?" he asked, his eyes growing watery by the second. Lovino felt the bitter guilt sting in his mind and he sighed resignedly.

"I do want to be here with you. I just don't want to be here with that fucking bastard," he explained. Feliciano opened his mouth to argue, but Lovino waved him off. "But if it will make you happy; then I'll try harder to ignore him," he added. Feliciano considered it as his best option compared to Lovino actually leaving, so he accepted it.

"Kay~! I'll go talk to him~!" he said and turned to skip into the kitchen. Lovino bit his lip as his internal battle from earlier came back with a vengeance.

_Talk to him~!_

_Don't fucking talk to him!_

_It'll make you feel better~!_

_Lovino, don't you even fucking think about it!_

_You can get it off your chest, eh?_

_Bloody hell Lovino, just fucking leave it!_

Lovino groaned. He knew that he'd spent too much time around his friends. Now his freaking consciences were starting to sound like them...

"Wait!" Lovino snapped, causing Feliciano to come to a sudden stop. The younger Italian twisted around and furrowed his brows slightly.

"Yes? What's wrong?" he asked, slightly concerned. "Lovi?"

_Do it, eh._

_Fuck off, you wanker._

_Not only will your mind be at rest, but you'll also feel better about no longer lying to your brother._

_Thought I told you to fuck off._

_Well just think, it might upset Ludwig off if he realises that Feliciano fancied Antonio._

_Why the fuck would he get pissed?_

_'Cause he's Gilbert's brother and anyone related to him would easily get wound up._

_...can't argue with that fucking logic. Fuck it. Just ask the brat._

Fucking friends. They just can't stay out of his fucking life!

"Feli," Lovino began slowly. "We need to talk..."

X-x-X-x-X

Matthew, on the other hand, woke up to the delightful sounds of fornication.

_"A-Ah...Alfred..."_

_"Ssh, come on baby...ah fuck!"_

_"Alfred! Don't, ah, swear. Please."_

_"Fuck. Say 'please' again! Jesus!"_

The Canadian blinked, momentarily frozen with shock. First, they obviously know he's here. They had given him the sofa to sleep on with a bundle of blankets just in case he got cold. Second, hadn't they _promised_ not to have sex whilst he was there? And third, was Kiku really that polite, all the time?

Matthew rubbed his eyes tiredly and grabbed a nearby book off the coffee table. He then threw the book at the wall, only to hear Alfred's obnoxious laughter ringing through the wall. Kiku was hurriedly trying to shush him, but the American was obviously having too much fun at his brother's expense.

"_Dude! You're just jealous 'cause you ain't getting any_!"

Yes Alfred, that's exactly why he was pissed, because he wasn't having sex. Because anyone would be pissed off at hearing their brother fornicating because they're not getting any themselves. It's not like they have anything else to be pissed off at in their lives.

Instead of throwing other stuff at the wall and damaging it, Matthew kicked off the blankets and decided that the morning was a lost cause. Wincing at the cold floor, Matthew padded out towards Kiku's room and kicked it sharply, ignoring Alfred's mocking laugh as he walked away to the kitchen.

Entering the kitchen, Matthew sighed at how nice and tidy it was. Kiku obviously worked hard to keep this place as spotless as possible when Alfred was around. The Canadian set to work on finding anything that could make pancakes and found an old box of ready-made pancake mix in Kiku's cupboards. Figuring it was the better than nothing, Matthew set to work.

Lighting up the stove and finding himself some maple-syrup, Matthew relaxed and concentrated on making his pancakes.

As he made them, he found himself naming them again. There was a large round one, that he dubbed 'Pan-Bird'. Just looking at it made him feel lonely without the familiar weight on his head. Then there was one with a slight burn on it, that made it look like a frowning-face. He deliberated on whether it should be called 'Art-Pan' or 'Lovi-Pan'.

When he had just come to his decision, Alfred had bounded into the room following the delicious scent of freshly made pancakes.

"Dude! You are so freaking cool! I love your pancakes!" he declared and stole the pancakes that had been dubbed as 'Iv-Pan' and 'Pan-Yong-Soo' straight from Matthew's plate. The Canadian briefly wondered if he could stab Alfred now and still get away with it.

Then he realised that his only weapon was a spatula and that the last time he had tried stabbing Alfred with a spatula, his brother's muscles ended up breaking it. The Canadian couldn't believe that some people actually thought that it was all fat. They obviously hadn't tried to hit his brother before...

Matthew decided to take the sensible route instead and ignored his brother's thievery. The Canadian just sat down and drowned 'Pan-Bird' with maple-syrup, before digging in. A pair of hurried footsteps could be heard as Kiku approached the kitchen.

"I'm awfully sorry about this morning!" he said quickly, his face flushed as his eyes alight with embarrassment. Matthew shrugged, used to Alfred's antics after so many years of being related to him.

"It's fine, it's not your fault anyway," he said, trying to be nice. Then Alfred ruined it by laughing.

"Dude! It takes two to tango!" he declared and sat down with all the ingredients to make the perfect coffee: milk, coffee beans and a shit tonne of sugar. Matthew scowled at him.

"It also takes a penis to have sex, so watch it!" the Canadian snapped. Alfred waved him off.

"Bro', you need to chill out. Or get laid. Whichever one's most likely to happen," the American stated. "I'm putting my bets on the former!"

Kiku sighed and went to make some toast, deciding it best to remain silent when the two brothers argued.

"Alfred! Will you shut up! And stop having sex where people can hear you!" Matthew said heatedly.

Alfred waved him off. "Or else what? What will you do bro'?"

"I might move out. Which means you don't get any more pancakes," Matthew warned. Alfred laughed.

"Move out? And go where? My room? You said that it was 'uninhabitable' and that you were 'amazed' that I hadn't 'died yet'!" Alfred exclaimed, ruffling Matthew's hair roughly. The Canadian pushed him away and scowled at him.

"Freaking bastard," he muttered, only to flush under Kiku's wide-eyed stare as the Japanese boy sat down at the table with a plate of toast. "Sorry," he added, reaching over to grab a piece of toast to dip in the leftover syrup on his plate.

"No, don't be. I'm just confused," the Japanese boy said. "I've been in his room before and I haven't died."

"You obviously didn't look under the bed," Matthew said darkly. Alfred chuckled.

"Dude! Why were you under my bed?" he asked, his blue eyes filled with mirth.

"Looking for Narnia," Matthew said dryly, then whacked Alfred on the shoulder. "I was looking for my hockey stick that you hid from me! I checked under his bed and almost suffocated from the smell! And the stuff you see under there is enough to make a blind man wince!" he complained, directing his attention to Kiku.

Kiku hid his smile behind his hand. "I see."

"Hey! That's not true!" Alfred protested, glaring at his younger brother. Matthew shrugged and glanced away with a huff.

Smiling, Kiku excused himself from the table. "Excuse me, I just remembered that I need to call someone," he said and bowed to them before he left.

Matthew blinked. Alfred yawned.

"Still bowing to people, huh?"

"Yep~!"

"Still enjoying it, aren't you?"

"Yep~!"

"You know he's not doing it because you're the 'King of all Things Awesome'."

"..."

"Or because he thinks you're a hero."

"..."

"He's only doing it to be poli—"

"Shut it Mattie!"

The Canadian smirked and shrugged. "I'm just telling you the truth. Arthur would do the same but I bet you wouldn't tell him to 'shut it'," he said curtly. Alfred winced slightly and shifted in his chair. Matthew watched him with furrowed brows, wondering why Alfred was acting strange. The American was suddenly so subdue and quiet as he made himself a cup of coffee.

"What's wrong?" the Canadian asked, narrowing his eyes slightly.

"Nothing," Alfred replied shortly, shrugging. "Just don't assume things about me concerning..._him_."

Matthew hummed thoughtfully, regarding the drop in Alfred's tone.

"Who? Arthur?" he asked simply. Alfred flinched and spilled sugar onto the table.

"Dammit Mattie," he muttered, wiping it off onto the floor. Matthew frowned, sitting up straight to regard his brother.

"What's wrong?" he asked, cocking his head to the side. Alfred shrugged and averted his eyes.

"Don't know what you're talking about, bro'," he said casually.

"Well, why are you freaking out whenever I mention Arthur's name?" Matthew asked, seeing Alfred flinch slightly again. "Did you fall out with him? Again?"

"No-o," Alfred said slowly.

"Have you talked to him since the last time you saw each other?" Matthew asked, making sure that Kiku was out of earshot. Alfred froze slightly in pouring his milk, before bursting out in hysterical laughter.

"D-Dude! Why do I need to talk to him? He's not my freaking keeper! God, how old do you think I am?" he said, his voice being too loud and too happy to be natural. Matthew threw a piece of toast at his head.

"That's not what I mean. Stupid," he muttered, glaring at his sibling slightly. Alfred sighed and ran a hand through his hair.

"Whatever. It's not like I'm freaking obligated to talk to him," he said, sounding like an utter sourpuss.

Matthew quirked a brow. "'Obligated'?" he asked, rather amused.

Alfred flipped him off. "Yes, fucking yes. I know words longer than five letters, alright asshole?" he said, sticking his tongue out for added emphasis. Matthew just sighed and rolled his eyes despairingly.

"Your insults are almost as bad as Lovino's...anyway, returning to our original topic of discussion: when are you going to talk to Arthur?" he stated, flinging another piece of toast at Alfred's head for the hell of it.

"Hey! Dude, not cool! Anyways, why do I _have_ to talk to him? I have nothing to say to him!" Alfred snapped as he pulled sticky bits of maple-covered toast out of his hair. Seriously, his brother has some questionable food fetishes. Unless... "Dude. You're not pregnant, are you?"

Matthew blinked. "Alfred. You're an idiot. Also, stop changing the subject, otherwise the nearest pointy object I can find will be jammed straight up your ass," he said dryly. Alfred forced a chuckle out and shrugged half-heartedly.

"What-the fuck-ever. As long as you ain't popping albino-bastards out, that's cool. And...Jesus Mattie, I don't need to speak to Arthur!" he repeated, slamming his mug down with gusto. Matthew clicked his tongue.

"Yeah, you really do. You're going through the same Brit-Withdrawals that you went through when he broke up with you," Matthew stated. "Except this time, instead of trying to ring him, you're outright ignoring him. Why?" he insisted.

Alfred sighed and started to play with the loose threads on the table-cloth. "Remember when we went to 'The Boombox'? Y'know, the night where you tried to 'make nice' with your freaky-fucking-ex-douchebag?" he asked lightly.

Matthew scoffed, absentmindedly hearing Kiku in the background, as he chatted happily away on the phone. "Yes, what about it?" he asked. Alfred bit his lip and cast a fleeting glance to the doorway. Deeming it safe, Alfred leant in and lowered his voice.

"Kiku rang me up remember? He, ah...he thought I was cheating on him. With Arthur. He didn't say it outright, 'cause he's too polite like that. He said some shit like, 'I perfectly understand if being with Mr. Kirkland is more enjoyable than myself and I shall willingly step away if it will make you happy'. Now, Arthur's a bro'. He's my best fucking friend. We're freaking BFF's! But Kiku...damn, he's something else. No one makes me happier than him, not even you and Arthur combined. Not even Superman and Batman combined. Not even Captain America combined with the four of you would make me happier than him!" Alfred said passionately.

Matthew blinked. Fortunately, he was fluent in Alfred-speak, so he could translate this as: _I love Kiku, so fuck the rest of you~!_

"Ah," the Canadian said. "So what happened next?"

Alfred gave him a weak grin. "Fucking ran out of the club like a man on fire! No one hurts my fucking baby...not even me. So I ran over here to apologise; almost had a heart-attack when I realised that he was freaking crying. Crying, dude, Kiku was crying! So, I promised him that I would never do the dirty on him, especially with Arthur, 'cause our relationship freaking failed when we tried to up the level...but he didn't believe me. 'Course he didn't say _that_ out loud, but still...I promised him that I wouldn't speak to Arthur or even look at Arthur again until I gained his trust back. So I'm making good on that promise."

Matthew blinked again. "Seriously? Never knew you could be so mature...but Alfred, Kiku does trust you. And by refusing to talk to Arthur, you're just going to hurt him. And yourself! Look, you're shaking!" he pointed out. Alfred chuckled and shrugged the shakes away.

"Brit-Withdrawals...wait 'til you get them. They're a pain in the ass," Alfred muttered, before standing up to place his mug in the sink. Matthew snorted softly.

"I don't think I'll be getting Brit-Withdrawals anytime soon," he murmured. Alfred chuckled and ruffled Matthew's hair fondly.

"Yeah you will. Anyone who's spent time in his snarky-presense will start to miss it soon enough. Trust me, I would know," the American said, his tone gaining a dreamy-quality to it. Matthew scoffed.

"Then if you know you'll miss it, why hurt yourself and him by ignoring him! It's not fair!" he snapped with frustration. Alfred shrugged.

"Life's not fair. But I gotta prove myself to Kiku. I just...have to," he insisted. Matthew scowled.

"What about your promise to Arthur? That you'll always be his hero?" the Canadian asked. Alfred grinned weakly.

"He told you that, eh? Fuck. I will always be Arthur's hero, got that dude? Always. But right now, I need Kiku to trust me again!" Alfred said desperately. Matthew sighed and glanced away. Alfred licked his lips and began to walk out of the kitchen.

"You know Arthur is living with his brothers right now, right?" Matthew called out.

Alfred froze in the doorway.

He ran a hand through his hair, mumbling 'shit' under his breath as he walked away. Matthew flipped him off as he did so.

Scraping the last of the maple-syrup off his plate, Matthew stood up and walked over to the sink, throwing the plate into it carelessly. Gazing out of the window as he turned the tap on, Matthew thought back to yesterday, when everything went shit. He definitely had to stay away from Gilbert. And Gilbert's friends. And Lars. And Lars' sister. And Arthur and Lovino.

And people in general.

God. Matthew sighed and rubbed his temples. His life officially sucked and if anyone wanted to say anything about that, then they could meet his freaking hockey stick. The Canadian smiled. Ivan's bloodstains were still on it.

Matthew snorted softly as he remembered that particular hockey match and decided that he should really stay away from Ivan too.

He sighed and ran a hand through his hair, feeling a slight pang as his hand went completely through it without meeting a bird. Matthew missed Gilbird. He was such a sweetheart. And he actually listened to him, unlike most of the people in his life. And he smelled like Gilbert...

Oh god...

He missed Gilbert!

"Freaking albino jerk," he muttered, turning the tap off with a huff.

"Ah. Missing Mr. Beilschmidt I see," came a voice from behind him. The Canadian jumped and span around, only to see Kiku smiling at him from the doorway. "It's okay to miss him. He probably misses you too Mr. Williams."

Matthew wilted slightly. "P-Please...just call me Matthew," he insisted, giving the Japanese boy a weak grin.

Kiku blinked. "But...that's so informal," he said simply.

Matthew blinked. "Never mind then," he sighed and leant against the sink with a sigh. "Was there something you needed?" he asked.

Kiku nodded. "I...wanted to apologise for this morning. Again. It won't happen, I assure you," he stated, his face going slightly pink. Matthew smiled and shrugged.

"It's okay. I understand what Alfred's like...you should have seen it when he was dating Ivan. You couldn't even enter the building without hearing them. And it was so violent too!" Matthew said, his eyes going wide as he remembered his brother's past relations. "Just the sounds were enough to give me nightmares for a week! Oh, and then I walked in on Alfred and Arthur once! They didn't even notice me and—ah! I'm sorry!" he cried, when he saw Kiku gaze down and frown slightly.

The Japanese boy glanced up and gave Matthew a short smile. "It's fine. I'm being...I'm being..."

"Silly?" Matthew offered.

Kiku nodded. "Yes. Silly."

The Canadian boy bit his lip and wondered why Kiku was so insecure. Alfred was the kind of boyfriend who would be constantly spewing out compliments to make his lover feel better. That's what he did for Arthur anyway. The American would call him beautiful and praise him for being so clever and witty. Of course, they argued as well and they bickered like children...but Alfred always had the time to make Arthur feel special as well. That kind of behaviour was lacking when his brother hooked up with Ivan, but Matthew guessed that there was more hate and less love in that relationship.

However, Matthew knew that Alfred always sung Kiku's praises, making it hard for him to understand why the Japanese boy felt so...insecure and lost in his relationship with Alfred.

"You know my brother loves you, right?" Matthew said. Kiku glanced up and blinked.

"Of course," he said.

"And you love my brother too, right?"

"Yes."

Matthew smiled brightly. "Then you don't need to worry!"

Kiku froze slightly, seeing the logic in Matthew's words. "Of course," he said simply, a small smile on his face.

The Canadian boy grinned and turned to dry the plates off in the sink. Kiku watched him for a while, grateful for having someone level-headed around. Especially considering that person was his boyfriend's brother. It made life a tad bit easier for him.

"Thank you Mr. Williams," he said suddenly. Matthew glanced over his shoulder and blinked, slightly stumped as to why Kiku would be thanking him.

"Uh...you're welcome?" he said in return. Kiku just smiled.

Matthew wondered if his brother's insanity was infectious. Then he wondered if he would get it too.

Then he briefly wondered when he last had his shots.

Ah. Two years ago.

...

...he was fucked.

"Mr. Williams, can I ask you something?" Kiku broke the silence once more. Matthew paused in cleaning the dishes and turned to give Kiku his full attention, whilst internally worrying about how long he had left before he was just as insane as his brother.

"I am having Mr. Kirkland and Mr. Vargas over tonight and I wondered if you would like to join us?" Kiku offered, cocking his head slightly. Ignoring how painfully formal and polite Kiku was, Matthew bit his lip at the prospect of meeting up with his ex-partners in crime.

"A-Ah, I don't know...I m-mean, what will it be about?" Matthew asked. Kiku smiled sweetly.

"Why, your situation of course. You do want to resolve it, correct?" he asked. Matthew's eyes widened.

"H-How...ah, Alfred told you, didn't he?" he said weakly. Kiku nodded.

"Don't worry, I shall not judge you. However, I will have to talk to Mr. Kirkland about...about..." the brunet trailed off, not wanting to actually put into words about what Arthur was doing with Alfred. So Matthew did it for him.

"About being a bit slutty?" he offered lightly, despite knowing that 'slutty' was the last thing Arthur was. Unless he was drunk and near a pole. Matthew blanched at that particular memory. Jesus Christ.

Kiku clapped his hands to his ears and shook his head. "No! That's an awful word to use! I just wish to know why he's conducting himself in such a manner around Alfred! That's all!" he cried desperately. Matthew felt bad for saying such a naughty word around the polite and formal Japanese boy.

"Sorry," he said sheepishly. Kiku removed his hands from his ears and nodded slowly.

"It's alright. But you will come, correct?" he asked once more. Matthew licked his lips and shrugged.

"I have no choice really...I do live here after all," he murmured. Kiku blinked.

"I'll make _mochi_ again," he promised. The effect was instantaneous.

"Okay," Matthew said brightly.

X-x-X-x-X

Arthur woke up to cold water being thrown in his face.

He choked and spluttered and shot up, wiping his face furiously as he felt his cheeks start to numb. Arthur cracked his eyes open and almost screamed in fright. A pair of dark-green eyes were glaring down at him. A cigarette held precariously by his older brother's lips.

Arthur clenched his bed sheets and swallowed roughly.

"A-Andr—" he started, his voice thick and slurry.

"What the fuck are you doing here?" Andrew interrupted, the cigarette dropping slightly out of his mouth as he spoke. Arthur squirmed and tried to flatten himself against the wall. He remembered the last time that cigarette dropped...

It wasn't a fun experience, to be perfectly honest.

It started with that cigarette falling and ended with poor Rapidash being thrown away. Cade had promised him that he would replace it.

The bastard has yet to follow up on that promise.

"A-Andrew, didn't Cade tell you?" Arthur stammered, absolutely freezing and rather scared as well. His oldest brother sneered at him and leant down, his fag glinting dangerously along with his eyes.

"He told me that you got yourself suspended. I thought you were trying to be different. Turns out, you're a bigger fuck-up than the rest of us!" he hissed, his lips curling up into a viscous smirk. Arthur scowled and pulled his sheets tighter around him.

"I am not! I am nothing like you!" he spat back, glaring heatedly into Andrew's eyes. His older brother just hummed in amusement.

"Nah, course you're not. As if we're anything like a wimpy fucking wuss like you," Andrew growled. Arthur cried out in outrage and went to slap his brother. But Andrew caught his wrist and yanked him in close. "Just what the fuck did you think you were doing there?"

Arthur remained silent, wincing.

"Well?" Andrew insisted, shaking Arthur slightly.

"Nothing!" Arthur hissed out, feeling his head begin to spin as his brother shook his quickly.

Andrew sneered and threw him back on the bed. "Damn right. You ever try shit like that again and I'll break that fucking wrist. Got it?" Arthur didn't saying anything. "I said, have you fucking got it?"

"Yes! I've fucking got it! Alright?" Arthur shouted back. Andrew spat at him and turned to leave.

"You're nothing but an arrogant bastard. Just so you know, we don't want you here, alright? You're fucking stuck here. We can throw you out easily, so don't fucking push it," Andrew spat, pausing at the doorway. He turned to glare at Arthur. "You're an ungrateful twat Arthur. You actually wonder why we fucking hate you? Stupid prick!"

And with that, he threw his fag at Arthur and stormed out of the room, slamming the door behind him. Arthur cried out in shock and ducked the cigarette quickly, hearing it bounce as it landed on his pillow. Rubbing his sore wrist, Arthur just sighed sadly.

The Brit remained frozen on his bed, just watching as the cigarette slowly singed his pillow. Biting his lip and willing his shakes to go away, Arthur waited until his breathing was back to normal and his eyes no longer stung with tears.

He sat there waiting for a long time.

X-x-X-x-X

When Arthur finally came down, he saw Cade at the sink, washing some dishes. Andrew and Seamus were sat at the table, drinking tea.

It looked like a perfectly normal scene, until Cade spotted him lingering by the doorway. "Arthur! Are you hungry? You didn't have anything to eat last night, so you should eat something this morning," he said, smiling softly at his younger brother.

Arthur winced when Andrew turned to smirk at him, a new cigarette in his mouth.

"Oh look, princess finally joins us," Andrew declared mockingly. Arthur flipped him off. Cade threw a dish-cloth at him.

"Andrew! Don't be horrid. Come Arthur, have something to eat," he said, encouragingly. Arthur bit his lip, watching his other brothers carefully, like a rabbit would do when it's seen a fox. He slowly made his way into the kitchen, his body movements stiff and defensive.

"Thanks," Arthur muttered, when he saw Cade take out his personal teacup to make Arthur a brew. Absentmindedly, he wondered why the fuck they had kept it. He also wondered why his room was still in the same state it was when he left. Arthur would have thought that they would have burned everything when he had left.

"It's fine. Now, will you tell me why you got suspended?" Cade asked, trying hard to be normal and trying hard to ignore the stares he was getting from Seamus and Andrew. Arthur shrugged, trying to be as indifferent as possible.

He knew what would happen if he told them. He'd just get laughed at.

"Nothing. Just something stupid," he murmured truthfully. 'Cause honestly, what he had done was pretty fucking stupid.

"You always do something fucking stupid. What makes this time different?" Andrew called out. Arthur flinched and reacted poorly.

"I tied my ex-boyfriend to a flagpole naked!" he spat, reminding Cade of an alley-cat. Spitting and defensive, hissing at anyone who tried to get close. Arthur, however, scolded himself for letting his emotions get the better of him.

He turned away from his brothers' shocked stares and instead, concentrated his sight on a blueberry muffin. It was just sat there, innocently, and it was making Arthur's stomach growl horrendously. It was on the counter, just to Andrew's right. He wondered if it belonged to anyone.

Then again, he didn't really care. He was fucking hungry.

"Fuck, aren't you a little retard then," Andrew scoffed. Arthur ignored him and reached for the muffin, his stomach clenching painfully.

A hand shot out and grabbed his wrist the movements too fast for Arthur to try and avoid them. It was the same wrist from earlier. The Brit glanced up and scowled as he saw Andrew peering down at him through glinting eyes. His cigarette lay smouldering on the ground next to them. Arthur winced as the grip tightened.

"Andrew!" Cade cried out, appalled by Andrew's behaviour. He had gotten Seamus and Andrew to promise not to physically hurt Arthur whilst he stayed. They agreed, but refused to stop their verbal abuse as well. The brunet was torn between throwing a plate at Andrew's head and throwing a knife at Andrew's head.

Trouble was, he was just as much a coward as he was when they were younger.

Something that Cade had tried so hard to change, but found that he was too intimated to make that change.

"Andrew! Let go!" Arthur spat, trying to pull his arm away. "I'm fucking starving!"

"Oh aye, you want this do you?" Andrew asked, his voice mocking and light. Arthur licked his lips, glancing from the muffin to his brother. He nodded. "Ahh, well you see, I don't think you deserve this fucking muffin. If you want it, you little bastard, then you have to earn it!"

"Earn it? Are you fucking serious?" Arthur asked, yanking his arm away finally. He kept his expression perfectly neutral. He had learned early to guard any and all emotions from his brothers, lest they take advantage of them and exploit them to hurt their brother more.

"I'm deadly fucking serious. And if you even think about swearing to me again, I'll take that bar of soap over there and shove it down your fucking throat. Do you get me?" Andrew asked, his tone dark and serious. Arthur licked his lips dryly, seeing the challenging look in his brother's eye.

Seamus snorted at the scene before him whilst Cade shook his head despairingly.

"Andrew! Don't be a dick and just give him the fucking muffin!" he snapped desperately, reminding Arthur of a nagging mother-hen. Andrew sneered at him and crossed his arms.

"No, don't think I will. You see, I don't think this little bastard deserves anything from our house. He thinks it's perfectly fine to 'disown' himself from us, only to waltz straight back with his fucking tail between his legs? Fuck him, the little twat!" Andrew hissed, talking about Arthur like he wasn't in the room.

Before Cade could retort, Arthur had scoffed loudly, earning the attention of the three other men in the room.

"If you're worried about me wasting your resources, then don't! I'm not here for fucking long, so don't fucking worry, 'cause I'll be leaving again soon and trust me, this time it'll be for-fucking-ever!" Arthur scowled, edging his way towards the kitchen door. He had the balls to argue against his brothers, but that didn't mean he had the balls to stay around for the consequences of his actions.

That wasn't to say he was a coward, because he knew he wasn't.

He was smart.

"Leaving again, are you? Forever this time, eh? Where did I hear that before? Oh yes, from your fucking mouth when you left last time, you little gobshite!" Andrew spat, his green eyes darkening to an almost brown colour.

"Well trust me, this time I mean it!" Arthur retorted, his fists clenched tight and his eyes burning with angry, unshed tears. Cade sighed and rubbed his temples wearily, wondering how a situation could go so wrong in such a short amount of time. Then he remembered...

This kind of shit had been happening for ages.

"If you didn't mean it last time then why fucking say it, you miserable bastard?" Seamus piped up suddenly. Arthur, momentarily stunned that Seamus had acknowledged his existence, found that his tears were becoming harder to hold in.

"I don't see why it matters whether I meant it or not. It's not like you missed me. It's not like you fucking believed me!" Arthur said, his voice thick with emotion as a lump began to form in his throat.

"Then don't fucking say things if you don't mean them. You might get our fucking hopes up again," Andrew stated cruelly. Cade slammed his mug down.

"Andrew! That's enough!" he snapped, his light blue eyes sparkling dangerously. Arthur pretended to have not heard him.

"Well so sorry for getting your hopes up last time, but rest assured, I really am leaving this time! You only have to put up with me for two more fucking days and that's it! I'm gone! You'll never have to hear from me, or see me, or even think about me ever again!" Arthur cried, his emotions quickly spiraling out of control.

"Arthur!" Cade scolded, utterly appalled with what he was saying. "Don't say such things! That's such an awful thing to say!"

Arthur sniffed. Seamus snorted into his tea. Andrew looked up and pretended to be surprised.

"Still here, are you?" he asked lightly and coldly. Cade threw a bagel at his head. Seamus sniggered.

Arthur accidentally released a sob.

"Fuck you!" he snapped, before he made a strategic retreat back upstairs quickly, furiously wiping his eyes free of tears.

He entered his room and slammed his door shut, the resounding _bang _echoing throughout the house. Arthur flinched as he remembered how Andrew would then come charging up the stairs to show him why you shouldn't slam doors.

"_'Cause they fucking break easily_," he would growl. "_Like this_."

Arthur tensed up as he remembered the pain and the tears that would ensue and waited, with bated breath, to see what would happen.

Everything remained silent. Nothing did happen.

Andrew just left it alone.

Feeling like crying with relief, Arthur flopped onto his bed and smothered his face into his pillow. Hurt and frustration bubbled at his seams and Arthur once again wondered as to why the fuck he had returned home. There was nothing here for him; just pain and a working toilet.

Roughly scrubbing his eyes dry, Arthur then reached for his phone that was sitting on his bedside table. He only had one message and that was the one from Kiku yesterday. He wondered why Alfred hadn't sent him anything, but shook the thought from his mind as he opened the message up. He sighed as he figured that Kiku probably wanted to chew him out over using Alfred like he had. Shit. Maybe that was why Alfred wasn't talking to him.

_'Sure. When do you want me to come?' _he replied and then threw his phone back on the bedside table. Burying his face into his pillow, Arthur felt like crying and throwing up at the same time. He was stuck in a house that he had hoped never to return to again. He had nothing to wear, except his clothes from before and anything his brothers would be willing to lend. Which was nothing, by the way.

Arthur heard his phone buzz and lifted his head to see the message on the screen. _Tonight, please?_

Kiku, he was always so polite.

Arthur sighed and buried his face into his pillow once more. If he knew just how boring and depressing it was being suspended, then he never would have considered carrying out his stupid revenge plan. Well...it wasn't like he knew that he was going to get suspended anyway...

Ah fuck. Fucking, fucking fuck.

Arthur reached over his bed and leant down to search around in the nearest suitcase. When he had found what he needed, he pulled it out and crushed them to his face. Two unicorns given to him by two people. One smelt of icing sugar and primroses. The other smelt like grass and salty french-fries. They weren't the best replacements for the people they represented, but Arthur figured that they would make do.

Stroking the soft mane of Francis' pony, Arthur gazed up at the ceiling and sighed. His life was utterly shit and dammit, he had the right to be melodramatic right now! He was single, suspended and all alone in a house where everyone hated him. He had no clothes, no friends and nothing to eat, lest he be maimed by his brothers...with only plushie-unicorns to keep him company.

Lifting up Alfred's pony, Arthur gently butted noses with it, gazing deep into its glassy silver eyes. The smell of salty french-fries made him hungry, which made him even more miserable, which made him wonder why he had left the kitchen without grabbing that fucking muffin.

Fuck. Muffins.

Curling up on his side, Arthur crushed the two toys to his chest and tried hard to ignore the painful scents that came with them. He tried hard to ignore the empty feeling of not having the actual people hold. He tried to ignore the painful pangs of hunger and hurt. Perhaps taking a short nap would make him feel better...then when he woke up, he could go and see Kiku and then afterwards, he could look into staying somewhere else...

Maybe a hotel...or a nearby park...

_Grrrowwwl! _Arthur winced and curled up tighter, hoping to push down and silence his stomach's rumbling.

Fuck.

This was entirely that bloody muffin's fault...

X-x-X-x-X

That night, Arthur knocked sharply on Kiku's door and waited patiently. His stomach was no longer in pain, now that he had managed to fill it with some cheap fast-food that he got on the way. He had checked the kitchen before he had left, only to discover the muffin still sitting there. He didn't trust it though, figuring that Andrew had probably poisoned it or Seamus had spat on it.

So to McDonald's he went.

Arthur no longer felt hungry, but he did feel slightly ill with all the grease.

Shaking his mind free of such thoughts, Arthur could hear Alfred's voice through the door and his heart clenched. Well, at least Kiku hadn't kicked him out. But damn, did his heart need to get over itself. Seriously, the majority of his relationship with Alfred was spent pining after Francis. Then, when he was with Francis, he couldn't help but flirt with Alfred.

Jesus, what was he? A slut?

Before Arthur had time to answer himself, the door opened to reveal Kiku. The Japanese boy had a strained smile on his face as he bowed before Arthur. Arthur inclined his head shortly in return.

"So glad you could make it, Mr. Kirkland," Kiku said, his tone completely neutral and indifferent.

"P-Please, just call me Arthur," the Brit said, licking his lips nervously as he glanced inside Kiku's apartment. He saw Alfred briefly, before the American boy gave him a weak smile and ducked into Kiku's kitchen to hide. Arthur ignored the pang in his chest and looked around to see...oh, fuck.

Matthew and Lovino. Both perched on Kiku's sofa. One looked nervous, the other completely pissed.

Well.

Shit.

* * *

><p><strong>A wild Kiku has appeared~!<strong>

**Catch him quick! Gah~! Kiku is so cute, like literally, he is adorable~! Not as adorable as Italy, but he is super, duper cute~! Like, most people don't like him, 'cause they think he's boring, but I don't. I don't think there is a single Hetalia character that I don't like~! ^_^**

**Ahem, thank you to: **_BFTLandMWandSEK, Miggery, Haluwasa2, HetaQueen, Chibi Russia-Kun, sweetness4theheart, dontpokemepleez, denise134, Kaya Yurushi, Angelwings228, JazzyAli, Into The Ramen Bowl We Go, APH-Indonesia, Itacestlovergirl, fricken ray of sunshine, Mikadocon, Amane Haruka, Color-Cat65, Her-Bloody-Majesty, the sun will always shine, Iwillendyou, alguien22792, silver Alida, EdiblePandas, Too lazy to legitly login, ms. nightshade, haganeno56, Rats On Crack Attack, Silverfern500 _**annnnd**_ Hinata28h_**~!_  
><em>**

**Love each and every one of you. ANYWAY! I am now off on holiday~! I'm going to Tenerife for Christmas, for reasons unknown to myself! Therefore, I hope you all have a Merry Christmas~! Happy Hanukkah~! Happy New Years~! And if you celebrate anything else, then I hope you enjoy it too~!**

**Perty please review~!**

**Love City Girl**

**x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x**


	17. How To Seldom Give Good Advice

**This chapter was so damn hard to write. Jesus.**

**Anyways, I'm loaded with stress and procrastination right now, but hopefully my next update won't be as hard to get through~!**

**And sweet baby Jesus! The dubbed version of 'Hetalia - World Series' isn't out in England yet, but the clips on Youtube have kept me going! Jesus. Christ. Spain literally makes my ovaries explode. He has the sexiest, cutest little Spanish lisp. Oh, and the way he growls 'Rrrromano'~! My heart just explodes listening to it! I cannot wait 'til the DVD comes out in England~!**

**Also, I may or may not have fallen in love with the narrator of the series. I'm just sayin'.**

**Ahem...**

**ENJOY~!**

* * *

><p><span>Chapter 17 - How To Seldom Give Good Advice<span>

Kiku bit his lip and wondered how to proceed with his offer.

Sat before him were three boys. Three very stubborn and different boys. The first, Matthew, had curled up on the armchair closest to the kitchen. His gaze was concentrated on the floor, simply refusing to look anyone in the eye. His polar-bear was currently being strangled in his grip. The second, Lovino, was slouching on the sofa, his face in a permanent sulk as he glowered at Kiku. He was obviously not happy and looked as if he was ready to unleash his anger as soon as someone spoke.

The third, Arthur, was still standing. He lingered near the door and he was fiddling with the cuffs of his shirt, demonstrating how nervous he was. Arthur wasn't just facing his partners in crime, the very two boys who Arthur had coerced into his revenge-plan, but he was also facing Kiku. The nicest, politest boy in the world. The same boy who just so happened to be dating the same boy that Arthur used to same boy that Arthur just couldn't stop flirting with.

He didn't know why he flirted with Alfred. Well, actually he did. Arthur figured that if Francis could flirt with anything on two-legs, then Arthur was at perfect liberty to flirt as well. Except, he'd rather flirt with someone he could trust and someone who knew that he didn't mean it. Arthur bit his lip; he didn't mean it...right? He wasn't flirting with Alfred 'cause he still liked him...right?

Oh. Bloody hell, what a fucking mess.

The Brit resisted slapping himself for his own stupidity. Of course he wasn't in love with Alfred. He was just in love with the idea that maybe Alfred still liked him. It gave Arthur confidence and a bit of an ego-boost whenever Alfred flirted back. It gave Arthur the opportunity to pretend that Alfred still loved him. That someone out there still loved him.

Of course, he had never doubted Francis' love for him before their break-up...but the French boy had given him many reasons to doubt that love regardless.

By playing this stupid game with Alfred, it made Arthur feel better, considering the amount of damage Francis had caused to his self-esteem. Whenever the French boy flirted with a girl, Arthur's mind jumped to the conclusion that Francis would be better off with a girl. His train of thought had a habit of doing that. If Francis flirted with someone skinnier than Arthur, then the Brit wondered if this meant that he should start losing weight. If Francis flirted with someone older than Arthur, the Brit thought that perhaps he should try to be more mature.

His self-esteem had been battered and bruised to unrelenting measures.

Of course, it isn't _just_ Francis' fault. It was just the way Arthur was.

Which is why he flirted with Alfred. It made him feel that he didn't need to change. He was perfect the way he was. If Alfred flirted with him back, then obviously it meant that he was worth flirting with, right? It meant that perhaps other people could see him in the same way that Alfred saw him: perfectly acceptable just the way he was.

Yet he isn't. Obviously. Otherwise Alfred would really, genuinely love him. Not just in the pretend-world in Arthur's mind. However, the American didn't love Arthur. And Arthur didn't love Alfred. Not in _that_ way, otherwise they'd still be together. Well, probably not actually. But if Arthur really had loved Alfred in the beginning and had treated the American properly, then yeah, they might have been together. But they're not. The proof was standing just in front of him.

Kiku Honda.

The boy who would never truly realise just how lucky he was.

Feeling a headache approaching, Arthur rubbed his temples and tried to erase the pain away. He honestly couldn't believe how dependent he was becoming on other people. He was bloody British, for god's sake! He never had to depend this much on a person before. When he grew up being tormented by his brothers, he was perfectly fine handling the matters on his own. Until Alfred stuck his nose and 'protected him'. And even then, he was still capable of taking care of himself.

So why the hell was he being so reliant on Alfred flirting with him? Was he really that affected by Francis flirting with another person? Had his self-esteem really fallen that far, the he required complimentary flirting in order to get on with his life? Bloody, fucking hell. Love really does fuck a person up. And in all the wrong ways too.

Wrinkling his nose in disgust, Arthur silently vowed to regain a bit of independence. Starting off with getting the hell out of his brothers' house. He honestly didn't know if his stomach could handle being starved for any longer. Arthur wasn't the biggest eater around, but even he needed some nourishment now and again, just to prevent the inevitable end of starving to death.

Sighing, Arthur returned his attention to Kiku. The Japanese boy seemed to be floundering slightly, hesitantly wondering where to start. Kiku would open his mouth, but then close it again as he furrowed his brows. It seemed that, when faced with an audience, Kiku was actually rather shy.

"G-Good evening...thank you for coming here," he started, slowly and hesitantly as if he was scared that the slightest wrong move would set them all off. It was if he was standing before three volatile fireworks that had the chance of going off at any moment.

"Like we had a fucking choice," Lovino muttered, crossing his arms and glaring off to the side. Matthew narrowed his eyes at him and huffed. Honestly, Lovino really couldn't go five seconds without annoying someone. Kiku blinked at Lovino's scowl and licked his lips nervously.

"I don't think I forced you to come," he said. Which is true, because if he had forced them to come, then that would have been very rude. "But I'm glad you came regardless," he added. And he was. Otherwise he would have felt rather quite foolish if all three decided against coming. He also would have felt a bit frustrated, because heck, not a single one of these boys would be able to get back with their ex-boyfriends without him.

If they wanted to get back with them anyway. Hmmm. He really should have gone over that bit with Matthew first...

"Well?" Lovino prompted, cutting into Kiku's thoughts. "What the fuck do you want?" His tone was sulky and sour, as if he had been forced here via blackmail and that he would much rather be back at Ludwig's flat, cutting his brother's head off with a wooden spork. Except, he really didn't want to be around his brother right now. After the conversation they had, Lovino actually felt sort of...sick being around Feliciano.

Kiku wrinkled his nose and nodded shortly. "Right. I wish to help you three with your predicament. Please," he said, keeping his voice calm and neutral, in hopes that his demeanor would also affect the three boys before him. Well, Arthur and Lovino mostly. Matthew was usually calm and collected anyway.

Until hockey-season anyway.

"Help us? Did we ask for your fucking help?" Lovino demanded. He knew he was taking out his anger on Kiku when it should have been directed at Feliciano, but he could never actually inflict his full fury upon his brother. He always ended up feeling shitty and guilty before he even considered doing so.

"I...I know you never asked. I was just giving you the opportunity of my help, if you ever needed it," Kiku explained. Arthur quirked a brow and motioned for him to continue. "Of course, you don't need to take my help...but it's there if you ever need it." The Japanese boy spoke calmly and steadily, hoping that if he remained as such, then they would be more willing to listen to him. Unless, of course, you were Lovino.

"And why the fuck would we ever need your hel—" Lovino started, but was promptly cut off by a pillow to the face. Flinging it off, he sent a scathing glare to Arthur who shrugged innocently.

"Carry on Kiku, what do you propose?" Arthur asked politely. Kiku nodded and carried.

"Right. I want to help you with your ex-boyfriends. I think you need my help. But, first thing's first: do you wish to get back with them or not?" he asked, flushing slightly at his wording. Kiku never really liked the word 'boyfriend' and I don't think he ever will.

"The fuck! What the actual fuck!" Lovino spluttered, face going a lovely shade of crimson. Matthew just blinked and hid his face in his bear, whilst Arthur made a strangled noise in the back of his throat and went white.

"Ah...too soon to ask?" Kiku offered, feeling rather like he had offended them. Matthew glanced up and nodded.

"C-Can we just leave it at: we don't know?" he asked, knowing that he spoke for all three of them, seeing as not a single one of them knew what they wanted from their ex-boyfriends. They've had their revenge...but they didn't really know what to do next.

"Ah," Kiku uttered. "Then perhaps, you still love them then?" he asked instead. He promptly received the same reactions as before. "Too soon? Again?"

"N-No. That's the thing, we still do," Arthur said. "It's just...a bit touchy." The Brit's face was pale with pink hues on his cheeks. Lovino was still spluttering and denying any sense of feeling towards the Spaniard and Matthew was currently strangling his poor bear to death in his arms.

"Good," Kiku smiled. "That's good. At least now I have something to work with! Helping you with your ex-boyfriends will be easier now that I know this," he murmured to himself. Lovino quirked a brow and snorted.

"So what the fuck do plan to do then?" Lovino asked scornfully. "What's your big fucking idea for us?" His tone of voice made Arthur scoff and Matthew glare heatedly at him. Honestly, the bratty Italian had no fucking respect for anyone. Kiku however, merely brushed off his tone of voice and disregarded his rudeness. Instead, he just answered his question.

"Forgiveness. I am going to help you forgive them," he said simply, tilting his head and giving the boys a lovely smile. Lovino however, had grown up with Feliciano therefore lovely smiles no longer affected him. In fact, they downright pissed him off.

"Forgiveness? Why the fuck should we forgive them?" he asked, quirking a brow and snarling a bit. Kiku remained unruffled by his aggressive outburst and merely blinked at the question.

"Why shouldn't you forgive them? It has been over two weeks since they hurt you; don't you think they have learnt their lesson?" he asked in return. Lovino wrinkled his nose and turned his head away from the idea.

"They haven't learned anything...stupid bastards," he muttered. Matthew sighed and idly brushed the fur on his polar bear's head.

"Well...they've probably learned to check their showers before entering them. And they've probably employed drink-testers, to ensure that they haven't been drugged...then there's the whole 'UV-pen-on-the-shirt' thing," Matthew listed dryly, intentionally trying to piss Lovino off. Hopefully, the Italian will react violently, giving Matthew a good enough reason to shove his hockey stick down the brat's throat.

"Ahem. I was thinking more along the lines that they have learnt to never commit their 'crimes' again, due to the punishments given out?" Kiku suggested. "Besides, I personally believe that mercy is the most beneficial form of punishing someone," he added. Arthur quirked his brows.

"And how -pray, do tell- does _mercy_ punish a person?" he asked, truly wondering what was going on in Kiku's head. He was also wondering what the fuck was going through Alfred's head and why the prick hasn't come out of the kitchen yet. "After all, isn't an eye for an eye a much more suitable punishment? Getting them back with a punishment that fits the crime?"

Kiku nodded but frowned as well. "But, haven't you heard of this one: an eye for an eye and the whole world goes blind? If everyone were to go around plucking out another man's eye because they did it to them first, then sooner or later, there will be no more eyes left to pluck. Forgive me for the gruesome imagery, but isn't that true?" he asked.

Arthur and Matthew glanced at each other, seeing some sense in Kiku's words. Lovino did too, but hell would freeze over before he would admit that someone else was right and not him. "But we're not plucking out eyes! We're dealing with stupid fucking ex-boyfriends! What the fuck can mercy do for us when it comes to them?" he demanded, crossing his legs and arms with a glare.

Kiku sighed patiently. "By showing them mercy, you will also be showing them that their actions haven't affected you, or hurt you. By forgiving them, you're showing that you are, to put it bluntly, over them. By showing mercy and forgiving them, you become the better person. The stronger person. You will be, as some would say, above them. You haven't stooped to their level by gaining vengeance," he explained. Arthur licked his dry lips nervously.

"But we've already stooped to their level. Four times, actually," he stated. "Isn't it a little late to try and prove to them that their actions, or crimes, haven't affected us?" he asked, tilting his head slightly. Matthew snorted softly.

"'A little late'? Bit of an understatement, isn't it?" he commented, smirking slightly. Arthur just rolled his eyes.

Kiku shook his head however. "No. No it isn't. It's never too late to forgive them. And by going to them, instead of having them go to you, you're also proving that you're willing to make peace as well," he said, before pointedly looking at Arthur and Lovino. "Without tempers arising, of course."

Without meaning to, both Arthur and Lovino snorted before saying, "Whatever."

Matthew smiled. Maybe there was a chance of being friends again...

"Don't copy me, you bastard!"

"I bloody well didn't, you pissing twat!"

...then again maybe not. Matthew shook his head and wondered if Kiku would be offended if he were to decapitate the pair of them with a hockey-puck. The Canadian glanced to the Japanese boy who looked increasingly flustered. _Ah. Perhaps not then_, Matthew thought. Turning to give the bickering pair of idiots his full attention, Matthew took it into his own hands to diffuse the situation before Kiku died of shock.

Clearly the Japanese boy was not used to vulgar language.

"Wanker!"

"Dickhead!"

"Shut up the pair of you!" Matthew snapped heatedly, his pretty violet eyes darkening to a foreboding indigo shade. "Lovino, how could Arthur have copied you if you both said it at the same time? And Arthur, you should know better than to rise up to Lovino's insults! Honestly!"

Lovino wrinkled his nose and glanced down to the ground, feeling rather chastised. Arthur shifted uncomfortably, averting his gaze away from anyone else in the room. In fact, he glanced at the kitchen, somewhat hopeful that a certain someone would come out and say 'hello' already. Ah. Fuck! There he was again, being so bloody dependent on Alfred and his fucking presence!

Tearing his gaze away from the kitchen, Arthur stared at Kiku instead. "Ahem. So...forgiving them," he started, still feeling slightly uncomfortable from Matthew's outburst. "And how do you propose we do that?" he asked.

"Well, first of all, are you willing to forgive them? You need to mean it first," Kiku said. Arthur snorted at how the boy sounded like he was the god of love advice and Francis was just his lowly servant who didn't know shit.

"I-I guess...I guess so," Matthew nodded.

Arthur remained silent, thinking it over. "I suppose I could forgive. But I will never let him forget!" he spat. Kiku hummed. Well, it was better than nothing.

Lovino just scoffed derisively.

"Ah, good" Kiku said, drawing attention back to himself. "So, the plan would be that maybe you would be willing to speak to them. In private and on your own as well. It should be easier without the added stimulus of alcohol and the distractions of a nightclub. Understand?" he asked, cocking his head to the side.

Matthew sighed. "We tried talking to them. I think I tried twice...it just doesn't work," he said sadly, reaching up to fluff up a bird that wasn't there anymore. Humming sadly, Matthew nuzzled his face into his polar-bear's neck.

"Yes, but this will be different. You will be on your own, yes, but I will also be there to help you stay calm. That is a very important feature in a relationship. The ability to stay calm and talk out your problems is very beneficial," Kiku explained. Arthur nodded.

"I guess that explains how you've managed to stay with that wanker for so long," he muttered, with a sharp nod to the kitchen. Wincing slightly, Kiku nodded.

"Do we have to be on our own?" Matthew asked. "I don't think I'm ready to face him, especially after all the awful things I've done."

Kiku smiled softly. "You don't have to, I suppose. You could try working together again, helping each other out. I even have some headsets that you could use," he said, smiling slightly. Disregarding the disbelieving stares he was getting, Kiku went on with his plan. "Ahem. You will meet up with them and agree to talk through your problems. Then, you will forgive them. If the words don't come easily, then I will help you out," he explained, tapping into his mischievous side that only Alfred could ever get out.

"That does sound like a good plan," Arthur murmured, wrinkling his nose at how logical it was compared to his own. Matthew nodded in agreement.

"I guess the only problem is...if we're all willing to work together again," the Canadian said quietly, gazing down at the floor. Kiku blinked and realised that this was probably something that he should have thought about. Arthur just shrugged and smirked.

"Well, I guess it all depends on a certain someone and whether or not they can control themselves," he sniped, green eyes casting a glance at the fuming Italian beside him. Lovino, who had managed to keep quiet since Matthew's outburst, couldn't take it any longer and snapped. His anger had been building up since his conversation with Feliciano and now, that he found a perfect substitute for venting, he exploded with that anger.

"You know what? Shut the fuck up!" Lovino snapped, before standing up with a scowl. "I don't need some fucking prick giving me advice about shit that I can handle on my own! Don't tell me what to do, 'cause I am fine dealing with my own personal problems! I don't need any other bastard invading my privacy! I don't work well as a part of a fucking team. Want the proof? The last time I tried 'teaming' up for some fucked up idea, I got suspended! So screw you all!"

His words caused Kiku to turn white with shock. Biting his lip, Lovino turned heel and stormed out, slamming the door shut behind him. Kiku flinched at the noise and knew that the Italian was just acting out in defense. He would be back. Probably. Either way, he just proved Arthur's point correct in that he really couldn't control himself.

Matthew wrinkled his nose as a few splinters appeared in the door-frame. Honestly, that Italian was a real piece of work. He turned to Kiku and sighed at the look of confusion and concern on the Japanese boy's face. "Don't worry," he said softly. "He's just a hot-blooded idiot. He didn't mean any of that," Matthew offered kindly. Kiku glanced to him and wondered once more how this sweet boy was honestly related to Alfred.

"He's a bloody twat more like. It's a shame that Antonio didn't smack sense into him," Arthur scoffed, earning a half-hearted glare from the Canadian.

"Indeed," Matthew said coolly, wondering if it was possible to smack sense into people. It most likely didn't work; otherwise Alfred would be the most sensible person in the world. Smiling to himself, Matthew glanced up to see Arthur clearing his throat and shifting slightly.

"Well, I suppose I better be off then. Clearly this isn't going to work out anytime soon, but I appreciate the thought Kiku. Thank you," Arthur stated and nodded shortly to excuse himself. Kiku bit his lip, remembering that he really needed to speak to Arthur about the whole flirting-business he had with Alfred. Giving Matthew a quick glance, the Japanese boy quickly intercepted Arthur's path to the door.

"W-Wait! Mr. Kirkland, before you leave, I...ahh, I," Kiku hesitated, wondering if he should do it or not. Then he decided that he had to do this. His heart wouldn't take it if he put if off any longer. He cleared his throat and looked up, straight into Arthur's green eyes. "May I ask you something?"

Arthur cocked his head and quirked a brow. "Of course you can," he said, giving him a small smile.

Kiku glanced back behind him, seeing Matthew give him a small nod before disappearing into the kitchen. The Canadian would most likely chew the American out for not greeting Arthur and being generally rude. The Japanese boy bit his lip and sighed. He knew that Alfred should have at least said something to Arthur, but he also knew that Alfred wasn't like that. He wasn't the type to break a promise on the grounds of common courtesy. Kiku knew that he himself, probably would.

He winced and placed a hand over his chest. His heart was starting to hurt.

"Can we talk outside?" he asked, turning his attention back to Arthur. The Brit shrugged and walked out into the hall. Kiku followed him, quietly closing the door behind them. He could just hear the beginnings of Matthew's angry outburst and prayed that it wouldn't turn physical. The last time Matthew ceased using words to hurt Alfred and started using hockey sticks, the entire kitchen had to be remodeled.

Arthur quirked a brow as he too heard the beginnings of Matthew's rant, but shrugged it off as sibling-issues. The Brit understood all about those types of issues and then some. It was best to just let them have it out by themselves. Then, if Matthew had left anything of Alfred behind, Arthur could have his go at chewing the rude fucker out for ignoring him. Not that Arthur depended on Alfred saying 'hello' but it would have been nice and polite if the dickhead had done so.

"So, what seems to be the problem Kiku?" Arthur asked politely. He and Kiku had always been good friends and understood that if there was one virtue that Kiku held most dear, it was courtesy. Shame that such an opinion hasn't rubbed off on a certain Yankee Bastard. Arthur honestly wondered if anything virtuous would rub off on that ignorant jerk.

"Ah, yes...the problem," Kiku started hesitantly. He wasn't the type to just outright state his problems. He hated the thought of burdening his friends with his problems, but he knew that he needed to do something about Arthur's flirting and Alfred going along with it. It just wasn't fair. "I-I was just wondering if...if there was a slight chance or possibility that perhaps, maybe...you might...ahh," Kiku stumbled over his words, face flushing as he failed to get his point across.

Arthur cocked his head to the side. "A possibility that I might, what? What's wrong?" he asked, feeling concerned over his friend's emotional distress.

"D-Do you...I mean, do you think that you...still..._love_...Alfred?" Kiku forced each word out, his body shaking with how awful and rude he must have sounded. Dear Lord, Alfred's bad manners truly were rubbing off on him. He ended on a whisper, feeling rather quite frightened as he wondered how Arthur would react. He expected outrage, anger, horrid words, hurt...sadness maybe? Or shame?

Whatever he had expected, he certainly didn't expect Arthur to burst out laughing.

"L-Love Alfred? Oh Kiku...I didn't even love him to begin with! I mean I loved him as a friend, and I still do, but nothing more really," Arthur explained between gasping chuckles. Kiku furrowed his brow, incredibly confused by this development. If Arthur really didn't love Alfred like that, then why did he...?

"Then, perhaps you could explain to me...why you would flirt with him?" Kiku asked plainly. On the outside, he appeared as cool as water. On the inside, his heart was beating madly and every muscle was tense with anticipation. Arthur blinked at the question, oddly bemused by what Kiku was inquiring. Then an idea clicked in his mind and he felt truly awful as he realised how Kiku must be feeling.

"Why I flirt with Alfred? Oh Kiku! This doesn't have anything to do with the other night, does it? If it does, then I am awfully sorry about that! Honestly, my flirting with the idiot means absolutely nothing. W-Well...I mean, I suppose it was a way to get back at Francis for flirting with half the world, but honestly, it was only a way to make me feel better about myself. Nothing more. I have no further intentions Kiku. I promise," Arthur rambled, his face getting increasingly flushed as he spoke.

Kiku blinked at the reaction. He knew that Arthur would be honest with him, but he just didn't expect this degree of honesty. "A-Ah. I see. I suppose, you are right. I was being silly then. Envy is such an ugly feeling. I apologise for assuming that your actions had a deeper meaning," he said, feeling rather conflicted. He wanted to say more, but he didn't know how without being rude.

"I am truly sorry Kiku. I didn't mean to make you jealous of the friendship between Alfred and I. We are just friends. Nothing more," Arthur promised. Kiku bit his lip and glanced down, feeling rather small under Arthur's heated gaze.

"Then...perhaps you might agree to not flirting with Alfred anymore?" Kiku asked, the inflection in his voice revealing the hope in his heart. Arthur cocked his head to the side and hummed thoughtfully.

"I suppose I could. It would take some getting used to...I've been playing around with him for so long, that I've actually forgotten how to communicate with him without the degree of flirtation behind it all," Arthur mused, trying to remember the last time he and Alfred spoke without being flirtatious.

"Please. Try. Otherwise I that Alfred may leave m—" Kiku cut himself off abruptly. Face flushed with embarrassment, the Japanese boy averted his eyes away from Arthur's confused stare.

"Alfred? Leave you? For who? Me?" Arthur questioned blankly. "Are you serious? It didn't even work the first time round, what on earth gave you the idea that it may work a second?" the Brit asked, truly disbelieving Kiku's thoughts. The Japanese boy felt naked with all of his fears laid out before him. In front of the one boy that could make his fears come true as well.

"I-It's ridiculous...but I can't help but wonder," Kiku murmured. Arthur rolled his eyes and scoffed. Honestly, what a ridiculous notion. As if he and Alfred would ever get together again. The stupid Yank was too busy swooning over the Japanese boy and he himself? Well, a selfish, stupid frog still had his heart.

"Did Alfred talk to you about this?" Arthur asked. "Have you even spoken to Alfred about this?"

Kiku blinked and nodded hesitantly. "Y-Yes, he reassured me in the same manner as you but—"

"—but he really didn't try hard enough, did he?" Arthur finished. "Stupid bastard. Let me talk to him, I'll sort him out!"

Kiku's eyes widened as he saw Arthur make for his door again. "Ah! Wait! He doesn't wish to speak to yo—" he cut himself off again. Rude. So rude. Ultimately rude. Rude and mean. Oh god. What was he going to do now? Arthur had paused at the door and turned to give Kiku a confused look.

"What?" he said, an eyebrow raised in confusion. Kiku bit his lip.

"I...I am sorry. But Alfred does not wish to...talk to you. H-He promised me that he wouldn't, until he regained my trust back from all the times you flirted with each other," Kiku explained, helpless with all the damage he caused. Honestly, he wanted to help Arthur; not hurt him more.

"H-He doesn't want to talk to me?" Arthur asked, his voice strangled and high. Kiku felt a pang of compassion for the Brit and wished that he could help soften the blow. All he could think of, however, was getting Arthur and Francis back together sharpish. Oh, and getting Alfred to talk to Arthur as well. His behaviour truly was rude and unneeded. Now that he understood why Arthur commenced with his flirtatious behaviour, Kiku found that he really wasn't hurt anymore.

His heart had taken quite the beating, but the realisation of Arthur's true intentions and of course, Alfred's promise to withdraw all contact from Arthur, finally made it clear to him. He honestly had nothing to worry about. In fact, this realisation could help him in his mission more than ever.

"I...I'm sorry. But he wishes to refrain from all contact. I did tell him that he needn't bother but he was rather adamant about it," Kiku stated, his gaze falling down to the floor to avoid the pain that blossomed in Arthur's green eyes. "I...I will try and persuade him against this idea..." he trailed off.

"He...he really doesn't want to talk to me? Or see me? Like, at all?" Arthur repeated, his mind stuttering to a stop as his brain refused to process this information. He didn't even register the fact that Kiku was willing to persuade Alfred to speak to him. That...that bastard. How dare he? How bloody presumptuous of him to think that ignoring Arthur would fix everything!

The British boy scoffed. Well...screw him then. Arthur would show him that he didn't the American, at all!

Kiku reluctantly lifted his gaze; the hurt and repressed anger in Arthur's voice made his heart clench and the Japanese boy didn't know what to do. He knew that one would normally hug an individual when they're distressed, but Kiku didn't like the idea of touching someone so intimately when they weren't his lover. So he decided to simply place his hand upon Arthur's shoulder and squeeze it softly. "I will talk to him," Kiku repeated, smiling sadly.

The Brit glanced up, his eyes watery and red, and gave the Japanese boy a weak smile. "M'sorry," he murmured, wiping his tears away roughly. Kiku nodded and stepped back, allowing Arthur his space once more. "I'm normally far more controlled than this." Actually, Arthur knew that he probably would have kicked off and hunted the Yank bastard down so he could murder him.

However, with Kiku being a witness, Arthur decided against such an aggressive response.

"Of course, Mr. Kirkland. I too must apologise for causing you much pain," Kiku said, bowing down before the Brit. He did so partly out of common courtesy and partly so he could avoid looking into Arthur's broken eyes. This situation really wasn't fair to anyone...

"N-No, it's not you! It's...it's Alfred. And me, actually. It's not like you told him to avoid me," Arthur sniffed, swallowing down his tears and trying to stiff his upper lip. "And you did say that you would talk to him so...that's fine." Arthur finished with a weak smile. Kiku looked up and straightened, a small twitch of a grimace gracing his lips.

"Of course," he said neutrally, knowing that, whilst he hadn't told Alfred to avoid Arthur, he hadn't done much to persuade Alfred against the idea either. The Japanese boy sighed, knowing full well that that was most definitely going to change. Kiku could never allow Arthur to remain in so much pain because Alfred was stubbornly upholding his promise. Arthur flashed him a small smile, before stuffing his hands into the pockets of his jeans.

"Um...could you give Alfred a message. From me. Obviously, of course it's going to be me," Arthur muttered, feeling rather quite stupid and ridiculous.

Kiku nodded encouragingly. "Naturally. What would you like to say?" he asked, hoping that maybe Arthur's message would give something to start with when attempting to persuade Alfred to speak to the poor boy.

"U-Um..." Arthur began, his voice wavering slightly. He cleared his throat and started again. "C-Could you tell him that...that he's a fucking _twat_?" he asked, his voice gaining more confidence and the tone seemingly firmer than before. Kiku blinked and wrinkled his nose. Funnily enough, he didn't think that this would help him in his mission.

Bowing slightly, Kiku sighed and nodded. "I may have to censor it, but of course. Anything else?" he asked, cocking his head.

Arthur blinked and licked his lips. "N-No," he murmured and then cast a fleeting, longing glance to Kiku's door. It was almost as if he was hoping for some idiotic Yank to come storming through it with hugs and apologies. But nothing -and no one- came. That stupid bastard. "Right. I'll...I'll see you," he said, tearing his gaze away from the door to Kiku. He inclined his head in a silent farewell and turned to march away.

His movements were stiff and his shoulders were tight. As if he was trying to prevent himself from sobbing out loud. Or from turning around so he could kill the Yankee twat who was hiding from him,

Kiku watched him leave, feeling his heart clench up tighter in his chest. He had wanted to help Arthur; and Lovino and Matthew. He had wanted to take away their pain. Now it seems that he was just causing more. Kiku didn't like it when lovers fell out, nor did he like it when ex-lovers became bitter and spiteful towards each other. That sort of situation just destroyed any glimmers of love left behind from the relationship, leaving the people involved feel anger and hate. He didn't wish that to happen to his friends.

He also needed his muses back for the books he was working on with Elizaveta.

Then, as if a light-bulb had been turned on in his mind, an idea struck Kiku by force. Turning back to his door, Kiku gave the Brit's back a fleeting look before disappearing into his apartment. Naturally, if he wanted his plan to work, he would need extra help.

And who better than a person who was on the other side?

X-x-X-x-X

**MEANWHILE...**

"Ah! Look at this beautiful painting~! My Grandson is so talented! Just look at the detail! You can almost smell the meatballs! You can almost taste the bolognese~!"

Francis sighed and rubbed his temples as his art teacher, Mr. Vargas, began to gush about his adorable and talented grandsons. He did this every lesson, updating the class on Feliciano's latest painting or Lovino's latest sketch. Francis never really knew why Mr. Vargas would do this, because he certainly wasn't inspiring any motivation in his students.

Instead, they felt the bitter sting of envy as they viewed their own pieces of art as crap compared to the Italian brothers.

Francis didn't really care. Art came in all shapes and forms and really, why would he get jealous of a painting when his talents belonged to the world of textiles anyway? He was a fashion designer, not a painter. Two completely different kettles of fish there, as Arthur would say.

Ah. The French boy dropped his pencil and hunched over his latest sketch. Arthur had been haunting his mind ever since he learned of the boy's suspension. He didn't make a fuss about it as he knew that it was better than the Brit being expelled. Plus...he did kind of deserve it. Francis would have been more bothered if Arthur had gotten off scot-free. Then again, he would have been devastated if Arthur had been expelled.

Imagine, another year without seeing his beloved..._ex_-boyfriend again. Never seeing those big green eyes flare up in rage; never seeing his cheeks flush pink with embarrassment; or hearing that wonderful voice curse him to hell; or feeling that soft, fluffy mop of hair on his head; never experiencing his soft, warm skin; his beautiful naked body; that mouth...that tongue! Oh, _dieu_...Francis shook his head before he became too excited. There was a time and a place for such thoughts and right now is not the right time or the right place.

The last time he got excited in the classroom, Mr. Vargas has paraded him in front of the others whilst making smart-ass remarks such as: '_I feel sorry for your girlfriend; can she still walk_?' amongst other things. Francis scoffed. _Girlfriend_. As if he would ever get away with referring to Arthur as such.

...damn it! He really could not get that boy out of his mind! Francis sighed and rubbed his eyes. He had been experiencing random bouts of insomnia last night because Arthur refused to leave his mind and not even the best concealer around could cover up his bags. Oh, he felt so ugly. His hair was still streaked with pink, his skin was all dry and covered in red patches from the glue and his eyes felt like they were coated in splinters every time he blinked. Not a very glamorous feeling, if truth be told.

And he wasn't the only one to feel like it either. Antonio had spent the past couple of days buried under his duvet, refusing to come out except for food and trips to the bathroom. Gilbert on the other hand, was skipping classes and hunting Mathias down to give the Dane a piece of his mind for not 'protecting' them. Francis was the only one who tried to get back to normalcy, but he found it hard when his hair was still pink and half the students had seen him getting publicly humiliated.

_Brriiiiing!_

Francis started at the sharp ring of the bell, indicating that the lesson was over and the students had five minutes to get to their next one. The Academy was very strict concerning time and the teachers normally handed out detention slips like candy if a student was late for a lesson.

The blond watched as the rest of his class breathed a sigh of relief before packing up their work. Honestly, his class had _no_ class. They stuffed their pieces of art away like they were nothing more than pieces of scrap paper. Francis just couldn't understand how anyone couldn't take pride in their art. Uncouth bastards, the lot of them.

"Ah, I'll see you all tomorrow~! Oh, Francis, could you wait for a minute?" Mr. Vargas sang out, his eyes twinkling and his smile bright. Francis wrinkled his nose. Honestly, their teacher was simply divine to look at, but all thoughts of _amour_ simply ran from his mind once the man opened his mouth. Carefully tucking his beloved sketches away in their folder, Francis waited until the room was empty before making his way to the Italian man's desk.

"I hope this won't take long. Miss Hassan doesn't appreciate people being late to her lesson. So, what do you want? Sir?" Francis asked. Mr. Vargas was a perfectly lovely guy, if a little too open about his sex life, yet Francis found that he hated talking to teachers like Mr. Vargas. He was the only teacher who found his flirtatious nature to be _amateur_ and _amusing_. Francis internally scoffed; just because the guy was _Italian_ didn't mean that he knew everything about love.

"Such a cheeky French brat, aren't you? Still sore about being classed below Italians when it comes to love? Ha! Anyway, you're friends with that Spanish...Spaniard, are you not?" Mr. Vargas said, his smile slightly sharp around the edges when he talked about Antonio. Francis had the feeling that 'Spanish Spaniard' wasn't the name he really wanted to call Antonio and that what he really wanted to say probably wasn't suitable for students.

"First of all, everyone knows that France is the country of love. Paris is known as the 'city of love' after all. So don't mock it, old man," Francis said, with narrowed eyes and a sharp tone. "Ahem. You mean Antonio? Of course. What would you like with_ mon cher_?" Francis asked, tilting his head slightly. Mr. Vargas wrinkled his nose at the affectionate French nickname. It was a well-known fact around the Academy that Francis and Mr. Vargas have argued over which country was more romantic (France or Italy) and let it also be known that their argument has yet to be resolved.

"Yes. Keep telling yourself that. Hn. I want you to tell that Spaniard that my Grandson says sorry. Ah! But not on my behalf, of course. Just make sure that _boy_ forgives Lovino, okay?" Mr. Vargas said, his smile almost blinding Francis. The French boy blinked a couple of times, not really comprehending what Mr. Vargas was telling him. Francis knew that Lovino would rather die than apologise to someone; he also knew that Antonio had already forgiven Lovino for his mistakes, just like he and Gilbert had forgiven Arthur and Matthew.

The favour that Mr. Vargas wanted him to do was still a little odd though...

"But...you hate Antonio? Why would you want him to forgiv—" Francis began, utterly confused and at loss at what to do. Mr. Vargas hated Antonio. Everyone knew this. Lovino knew this. Antonio knew this. His next-door neighbour's sister's husband's _dog_ knew this. It was a fact of life: the sky is blue, the grass is green and Mr. Vargas did _not_ like Antonio Férnandez Carriedo.

So why the sudden change of heart? Francis figured he would be delighted at the punishments that Lovino was handing out to Antonio. Francis honestly thought that Mr. Vargas would have thrown a huge party with balloons and a bouncy-castle: everybody invited.

"Just because I expressed minor discomfort over my lovely Grandson's choice in boyfriend, doesn't mean I hate the young boy," Mr. Vargas interrupted, waving the matter off with his hand, with a blasé expression on his face. Francis blinked at him; totally and utterly disbelieving what was being said.

'_Minor_ discomfort'? 'Minor-fucking-discomfort'?

Francis shook his head in disbelief. To call it a 'minor discomfort' would be the biggest understatement in the world. In fact, he figured that it should go in the Guinness Book of World Records for the biggest understatement ever made in a single moment of time. People all over the world would actually acknowledge this moment in time as the moment where the biggest understatement in the world was uttered. Francis actually restrained himself from reaching over and slapping the man silly, demanding to know where the real Mr. Vargas was.

Francis knew that he was probably overreacting, but after hearing about _how_ Antonio had met Mr. Vargas, he honestly believed he had the rights to be as dramatic as possible...

X-x-X-x-X

_"And this is my Grandfather. Don't fucking mess up, dammit!" Lovino demanded, before storming off to separate his brother's lips from Ludwig's. Stupid fucking bastard! He wasn't even supposed to be here! Obviously his Grandfather persuaded him to come to upstage Antonio...the nosy old bastard._

_Watching Lovino storm off, Antonio turned to face the man before him and held out his hand, smiling warmly. He had never seen the deputy-headmaster, except for assemblies and enrolment days at the Academy. He seemed sort of pleasant...well, except for the whole 'I-can-and-will-expel-you' ability he owned. However, he felt good about meeting the man for the first time; Feliciano had promised him that his Grandpa was super, duper nice!_

_"I am Antonio, it is a pleasure to meet you~!" he declared politely, just like Lovino said, before gasping in shock as Mr. Vargas' hand enveloped his own and squeezed._

_Hard._

_"Likewise," the older man said, his forced smile and cheery tone disarming Antonio instantly. The Spaniard winced as he hand was released. Yep. At least two fingers had been dislocated and he was rather worried about the lack of movement in his thumb... "Do you like sex?"_

_Antonio blinked. What...what had he just said? "I am sorry...but could you repeat that?"_

_Mr. Vargas grinned, his sharp teeth gleaming in the light. Now Antonio knew where Lovino inherited his glares from. "Oh. You heard me."_

_"A-Ah...right," Antonio stammered. Was this some kind of test? Lovino never mentioned this! Ah, how to answer, how to answer! He could lie, but he figured that Mr. Vargas would see straight through it; he is a teacher after all. Lord help him, he would have to tell the truth. "But of course, what healthy teenage boy doesn't like sex? Oh! If you're worried about Lovino, then you shouldn't be. I would never force him into anything!"_

_Mr. Vargas' smile turned icy, which is odd as such a smile really didn't suit such a warm man. "Good. Because if you did force him, and if you ever think about doing so, I'll cut off your dick. And it would be such a shame if a 'healthy, teenage boy that liked sex' such as yourself, lost his dick. Right?"_

_His eyes were narrow and his smile was predatory. Antonio felt like a wonderfully, fluffy bunny who was moments away from being eaten._

_"R-Right. Sir."_

X-x-X-x-X

Francis snorted. It was until later that Antonio learned that he really shouldn't have told Mr. Vargas that he liked sex. Feliciano told him that when Ludwig was asked the same question, the German had turned bright red and almost fainted on the spot.

Mr. Vargas approved of him five seconds later.

Apparently he figured that Feliciano would be ultimately safe with a prude that couldn't bear the mere mention of the 'S-E-X' word.

The French boy grinned. Obviously Mr. Vargas had no idea of the 'toys' that lay underneath Ludwig's bed. Though, Francis supposed that he won't ever find out either. If he did then Ludwig could say 'bye bye' to his manhood and say 'hello' to life as an eunuch. Then, Feliciano could say 'bye bye' to having a boyfriend and say 'hello' to life in a monastery.

Francis supposed that his behaviour did slightly resemble Mr. Beilschmidt's protective nature over his sons. Except, Mr. Beilschmidt would rather die than have a conversation on the matters of sex with his children. Francis remembered Gilbert telling him about how he and Ludwig had learnt everything about sex from the internet.

Francis shook his head and sighed. Honestly, Italians are such hard work to deal with. "So, if you're discomforted by Antonio and Lovino being together, why would you want me to send Antonio this message?" he asked. Mr. Vargas rolled his eyes and grinned.

"Because for some reason, that boy makes my Lovino happy. Strange, right? And after they broke up, Lovino became unhappy. And I don't like it when my Grandbabies are unhappy, understand?" Mr. Vargas said. "I know, I should kill that Spanish boy for making Lovino unhappy, except...I can't. Because Lovino made himself unhappy when he broke up with the idiot." Mr. Vargas then sighed sadly, as if he were mourning his now-dead hopes that once revolved around Lovino being happy when he eventually broke up with Antonio.

Francis hummed; obviously Mr. Vargas didn't know the whole story behind the break up of Lovino and Antonio. The French boy knew that if he did, then his Spanish friend would have been turned into a roasted Spanish dish.

"Right. And why not send it yourself?" Francis asked, quirking a brow and cocking his head. Mr. Vargas shifted uncomfortably and averted his gaze.

"I-I couldn't simply talk to him myself! I am far too busy!" he said, his smile stretched and his voice quivering with nerves. Francis hummed and placed a hand on his hip, giving Mr. Vargas a sassy smile.

"Far too busy? Doing what? _Mademoiselle_ Karpusi? Or are doing that _Mademoiselle _Gupta again? Or maybe, you cannot talk to him yourself because you have finally recognised that Italians have no experience where matters of the heart are concerned. Are you finally admitting that the French are far superior in the business of romance?" Francis asked, his smile bright and his eyes full of mirth.

Mr. Vargas' eye twitched. "If I say 'yes' to both, will you do it?" he asked, his hand itching to grab the nearest object to throw at the French boy's face. Hopefully it would wipe that smirk away. Francis hummed and bit his lip in thought.

"Depends...first, tell me who it is you're romancing, then I want you to promise that you will announce to the whole class that Italians are inferior to the French when it comes to _amour_~!" Francis declared, holding out his hand with a wink. Mr. Vargas' eye twitched again.

"Fine. But if I do so, then I also want your coursework to be completed for next lesson," Mr. Vargas said. Francis shrugged; he had done most of it anyway.

"That will be doable," he remarked and shook Mr. Vargas' hand firmly. The Italian retracted his hand quickly and discretely rubbed it on his trousers, hoping to get rid of any germs that Francis had left behind. "Now, tell me, which lucky lady are you going out with," Francis insisted, rolling his eyes as he caught the art-teacher wiping his hand.

"Miss Karpusi. Now get out," Mr. Vargas said, shooing the French boy away.

Francis hummed and hitched his bag up on his shoulder. "What wonderful taste you have. She has the most loveliest hips, does she not? Oh, and her eyes...the prettiest pair of eyes I have ever seen on any woman yet~!" Francis gushed, clasping his hands to his chest in approval. Heracles' mother was Mr. Beilschmidt's secretary and any guy, or girl for that matter, would be insane not to fancy her at least twice in their lives.

"I know~! Her legs! They just go on forever, do they not?" Mr. Vargas said dreamily, before he realised that he was talking to a French student and therefore, needed to appear to be more respectable. Besides, he had tomorrow's lesson to gush about his date anyway. "Ahem! Now shoo! You have work to do!"

Francis rolled his eyes and turned to saunter off. He paused at the door and hummed thoughtfully. "Miss Karpusi? Hmmm...it appears I owe Gilbert five pounds," he sighed as he walked off. Mr. Vargas' ears pricked as he turned to frown at the cheeky French boy.

"You took bets on this?" he said, stunned that the students paid that much attention to his love-life. He knew that he talked about it a lot, but he didn't know that they actually listened to him. "Why would you do that?" he asked. And why, pray-tell, wasn't he allowed to join the stakes? He could have made a fortune!

"But of course. We are very bored pupils, _Monsieur_ Vargas, what else are we supposed to do?" Francis asked, opening the door to leave. Mr. Vargas wrinkled his nose and pouted.

"You could be working on your own love-lives, perhaps?" he asked, sighing when he saw Francis wince. "Apologies. If Gilbert said Miss Karpusi, then who did you say?"

Francis grinned and flipped his hair over his shoulder. "Oh? Me? Why, Mr. Beilschmidt, of course~!" he said innocently, before leaving with a skip in his step. Cheeky bastard; he knew exactly what he was saying; there was nothing innocent about that!

Mr. Vargas paled dramatically as thoughts of the German headmaster turned dirty in his mind. Shaking his head in distress, the art teacher began to quickly throw all of his belongings in his bag so he could leave quicker. His mind taunted him with images of a naked German on his bed, blond hair fanned out against the pillows and blue eyes heavy with lust—

"No, no, no, no!" Mr. Vargas chanted as he yanked at his hair and made a grab for his keys. Luckily for him, he had no more classes for the day. Unluckily for him, he had two flights of stairs and an entire car park to cross in order to reach the safe haven of his car. "I need to get home! I need to get home!"

—strong German back arched and his mouth wide open in a silent gasp. His hands grasping at the sheets, chest rising and falling rapidly, toes curling in pleasure.

"I need a drink," he mumbled, rushing out of the classroom and fumbling with his keys as he tried to lock it. He whimpered as he tried desperately to ignore his mind's naughty visions. "I need a drink. And a Playboy magazine," he whispered urgently as the door finally clicked, signalling that it was locked and he was finally free to go. Mr. Vargas sighed and swept a hand through his hair.

He glanced down at himself and groaned at the little tent that popped up to say 'hello'. "Two Playboy magazines," he muttered, stuffing his keys into his pocket. "I need two. And wine. A lot of wine."

"Wine? I do hope you're not planning on marking your work drunk again, are you? Because I really cannot protect you against the Academy's governors anymore," a horribly, familiar voice. Mr. Vargas winced and slowly, awkwardly, turned to face his boss. Plastering a bright smile on his face and trying very hard to hide his problem, Mr. Vargas greeted Mr. Beilschmidt using his own particular style of greeting someone.

"Siegfried! You've gained an extra five wrinkles from frowning since the last time we met!" he said cheerfully, his tone almost strained. He was hoping that he could just go straight home, jump into a cold shower and never get out. Instead, he was faced with the -_moaning, groaning, coming_- one man -_beautiful, beautiful, beautiful_- that he really had hoped that he wouldn't bump in to.

Mr. Beilschmidt scowled at the use of his name. Folding his arms and fixing Mr. Vargas with a Level Three Glare, Mr. Beilschmidt once again wondered why this man was still working at the Academy.

"Don't use my name. I told you to never say that out loud!" he snapped, blue eyes flashing dangerously. Mr. Vargas shrugged and grinned.

"Not my fault. You're the one who got drunk enough to tell me it. Ah! You should get drunk more often! You're much more fun when you're drunk. Not like your usual self, so uptight and...eh, stiff," Mr. Vargas ended weakly, shifting once more.

Mr. Beilschmidt glanced down and arched a brow. "Speaking of 'stiff'," he began, a small smirk playing on his lips. Mr. Vargas blinked, frozen with nerves and fear. Whatever happened next, he knew he would never be able to live it down. He would have to quit his job, sell his home, leave his Grandsons, flee the country, find refuge in South America, where he would end up making a living in some seedy bar, dancing for perverted men, where he would be forced to dress up as a woman with the stage name of—

"Is that a pen in your pocket, or are you just pleased to see me?" he asked, mirth glittering in his eyes.

—Lola Piñata. Fuck.

...

...wait.

"A _pen_! Please! This is at least the size of a torch!"

* * *

><p><strong>Yeah. That last bit? I don't even - whatever.<strong>

**Yes. I named Mr. Beilschmidt, 'Siegfried'. Just cause. Just. Cause. Don't question. Just accept.  
><strong>

**Thanking: **_Tailsdoll123, APH1168kittens, The Awesome of Awesome, I-am-the-Wolf, Fantasizedemo97, Just A Girl With A Keyboard, Chelseaj500, OreoPandas, Chibi Russia-Kun, nonnon, lightwolfheart, Allers3, 0Kurda-Smahlt0, Triizore, Gigi who has no account xD, KittenNya, Gilraen Elensar, Lodella, sweetness4theheart, xxicexxlostsoul, Clozzie, HellsScarletRose, CookieTower, Hinata28h, dontpokemepleez, fricken ray of sunshine, Glowstick145, APH-Indonesia, DanzQueenB, DrinkingAlcoholicRainbows, EdiblePandas, Pen Name Is Invalid, alguien22792, JazzyAli, ms. nightshade, Yami-no-Hikari-7, BFTLandMWandSEK_** annnnd **_crimsonlilly_** for the lovely reviews. You know, you have some pretty kickass usernames~! ^_^  
><strong>

**Anyways. Sorry it took so long. Exams got in the way. Then, I got some coursework back from my English teacher and my self-esteem went all: '_rawr, you can't write for shit bitch, you can't write for shit_!' so, the entirety of January was spent being miserable in my room. Yay~! ^_^**

**Ahem. Perty please review~!**

**Love City Girl**

**x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x**


	18. How To Create A FUBAR Relationship

**It's SOOOOOOO late! I am so sorry~!**

** Not much to say here though except I'm inserting another SHAMELESS PLUG! HAHAHAHAHA~!**

**Ahem. It was for Valentine's Day. It's USUK and it's called '**_The Virgin's Guide To Knowing You're A Virgin_**'. Check it out, yo~! ^_^**

**Pffft. Anyways, some drama coming up now~!**

**Also, if you don't know, FUBAR means: Fucked Up Beyond All Repair~! ^_^  
><strong>

**ENJOY!**

* * *

><p><span>Chapter 18 - How To Create A FUBAR Relationship<span>

The first thing Arthur did when he got home was duck.

A flying lamp came zooming at his head, shattering against the door when it collided. Feeling the shards fall onto his body, Arthur winced as a couple scratched at his neck as they slipped down the back of his shirt. Glancing up, he hesitantly looked at Andrew, whose eyes were burning darkly, and swallowed hard._ Never show fear, never flinch, never cry_.

It always makes things worse.

"The fuck have you been?" Andrew hissed, a cigarette balancing between his lips as he spoke. It was a special skill that had taken years to perfect and Andrew enjoyed the way that it made him that tad bit more intimidating. Arthur, meanwhile, merely watched as the smoke rose up into the air, believing that it would be better to stare at that than his brother's narrowed eyes.

"Out," Arthur stated, his eyes concentrating on following the swirling smoke. He didn't blink. He didn't want to blink. A memory that should have been repressed fucking years ago still lingered in his mind and made him almost scared of what would happen if he did blink...

_"Ah! You blinked! I win."_

_"N-No wait! St-Stop! Please d-don't!"_

He flinched. Andrew saw it and smiled.

"Out? And where exactly is 'out'?" he asked, his voice delicate and dangerous, running over Arthur's skin like lace. The blond repressed a shudder and continued to watch as the smoke steadily disappeared the higher it rose.

"Oh, I think anywhere outside the door constitutes as 'out'," Arthur stated stiffly. His brother raised a brow, lifting his fingers in the air and snapping them sharply. His actions brought Arthur out of the safety of his trance and sent him hurtling towards the dangers of staring his brother in the eye.

"Cocky little bitch, aren't you?" Andrew asked. Arthur didn't reply.

He didn't need to. It was a rhetorical question, despite the fact that the brothers had different answers for it.

"So. _Why_ were you out then?" Andrew asked, taking his fag out of his mouth and tapping it to rid himself of the ash. "You weren't tying more people to flagpoles, were you? You little fucked up shit." The red-head's smile was one of dark mirth and his eyes were sparkling dangerously. Arthur refused to be intimidated again though.

"_Why_ do you care?" he shot back, rolling his shoulders back to dislodge any glass still stuck down his top. Andrew remained silent, his face blank and his eyes sharp and cold. Wrinkling his nose in disgust, the older brother scoffed and stalked past the blond.

"I don't," he spat, slamming his body into Arthur's as he walked past. Arthur automatically lifted a hand to soothe the aching, tender skin on his shoulder.

He scowled deeply as Andrew left, the front-door slamming shut. Flipping the door off, Arthur stalked into the kitchen, hoping that now he would finally be able to nick something and eat it in peace. The first thing he noticed when he entered the kitchen was the muffin that had been there since morning. Arthur furrowed his brows in confusion and wondered why it was still there.

"He left it for you," a voice from behind him called out. Arthur jumped and turned to find Cade smiling sadly in the doorway. "That muffin. He, uh, left it there hoping that you would get it later." Arthur shrugged and turned his attention to the cupboard above the sink.

"I didn't ask," Arthur said. "And you probably told him to leave it for me."

Cade sighed. "I didn't."

Arthur scoffed but didn't argue back. Instead, he reached into the cupboard for his mug. His dad had bought it for him when he had gone away on one of his 'missions' and Arthur had cherished it dearly. He had always felt a little angry that his dad wasn't always around to protect him like a proper dad should...but Arthur guessed that being in the SAS made it a little hard for him. The young Brit never blamed his dad for never being around...but that didn't mean that Arthur wasn't annoyed with the man.

Pulling the mug out, Arthur turned it around in his hands. It used to be pure white but after years of use, it had faded to a dull grey. It was still clean though, with no dust present on it at all. Also, Arthur could still make out the Union Flag printed on the top and the small words beneath it. _Keep Calm and Drink Tea_. Arthur snorted. He couldn't remember a time in this house when anyone calmed down and just drank a cup of tea.

Normally, they would raise hell, break a few things (or people, depending on their mood), set something on fire, have a fag and then drink some tea.

Speaking of breaking a few things...Arthur wondered why his mug was still intact. It was something that had bothered him since this morning. The mug was one of the few things he had left behind when he had stormed out all those years ago; he had felt for sure that Andrew or Seamus would have smashed it up or something. Or, at the very least, sold it on_ eBay_.

Cade watched him inspect the mug carefully and he felt his heart clench tightly. It had been an unspoken rule that Arthur's mug was to remain in the cupboard and stay in there until further notice. But the taller blond couldn't help but wash it out every now and then, just to get rid of the dirt, just to make sure that it was clean and ready, just in case Arthur ever came back...

After all, Seamus did the same for Aislinn's mug, so why couldn't he do it for Arthur?

Speaking of Arthur, Cade hesitantly glanced up at his younger brother and swallowed hard. The silent had become tense and heavy, making Cade feel uncomfortable and awkward. He had always hated silence. Always. After being in house full of noisy fuckers for so long, Cade soon realised that silence usually meant that something was wrong. Very wrong.

And Cade never liked it when things went wrong either.

"So...how long are you going to be here for?" he asked, part-genuinely curious, part-trying to break the tense atmosphere. Arthur wrinkled his nose and gazed at his brother scornfully.

"Why? Trying to get rid of me _that_ quickly?" he asked, quirking a brow.

"No!" Cade said, a little too quickly and a little too loudly. A blush coasted his cheeks as he averted his gaze. Arthur blinked at his reaction and shifted slightly, turning his attention the mug in front of him.

He traced the rim with his finger as he wondered if Cade was being honest or not. "U-Um...about two more days, maybe?" Arthur said. "Give or take a day," he then added under his breath. Arthur waited patiently for his brother's reaction, wondering if the silence meant something good or not.

Turning around slightly, Arthur furrowed his brows in confusion as he saw Cade's expression melt into one of sadness. Arthur didn't get it.

"What?" he asked sharply. Cade flinched and tried to smile.

"N-Nothing. I just...w-where will you go then?" he asked, fists clenching on his knees and his large eyes straining to keep the tears away.

Arthur shrugged and turned away. "There's a small hotel that caters for last minute bookings down the road. I'll just pack my stuff and get going soon," he remarked, almost wistfully, yet almost sadly too. Or was Cade getting too hopeful?

"When did you find that out?" he asked, wondering if he could get a proper address or a name for this hotel.

"On my way home," Arthur murmured, pulling forward the sugar jar and taking a spoon out of the drawer at the same time.

"Oh. Will you need any money?" Cade asked quietly. Arthur licked his lips and turned to face him.

"I don't accept charity," he said coolly, his eyes like flints of ice, returning his attention to the task at hand.

Cade nodded. "Then don't. Just accept courtesy instead," he retorted. Arthur scoffed, his smirk jeering and cruel.

"Courtesy? Please. As if anyone in this house knows how to spell 'courtesy' let alone act upon it," he stated. Cade decided against telling Arthur that he was sort of implying himself in his insult too. It would only bring more arguments and really, the less arguments there were, the better.

Wrinkling his nose, Cade brushed Arthur's words aside. "Anything you _do_ need then?" he asked.

"I, uh...I need some clothes actually," Arthur said, keeping his eyes down. Cade cocked his head and raised a brow in question.

"Why? Didn't you bring any?" he asked, slightly confused. Arthur wrinkled his nose and shifted slightly in discomfort.

"N-No. I didn't," he replied simply, his grip on the cupboard's handle tightening. "T-This is all I have." Arthur gestured lamely to the clothes he had been wearing for two days now. They felt disgusting and really, a pair of jeans and a t-shirt can only last so long.

"But...you brought two whole suitcases with you!" Cade remarked. "What on earth did you bring, if you didn't bring clothes?"

Arthur scowled. "None of your fucking business," he muttered coldly. Cade frowned and crossed his arms.

"Arthur Kirkland! Don't use such language with me!" he scolded. Arthur scoffed and Cade softened, knowing that shouting at Arthur would get him nowhere. "I am...sorry. I didn't mean to shout. Just...tell me, what did you bring? It's nothing dangerous, is it?" he asked warily. It wouldn't surprise him if Arthur and hidden a couple of knives or something inside his suitcases. Not if he was returning to this house anyway.

The youngest Brit rolled his eyes. "No, I'm not stupid. I just...I brought...my _unicorns_," he whispered the last word carefully, keeping his voice neutral and his entire body-language told Cade that he was on the defensive. The older blond blinked and tried to hide his affectionate smile.

"O-Oh. Oh, Arthur...why would you bring _unicorns_?" Cade asked, copying Arthur by whispering the last word too. Cade never judged Arthur on his fascination with mystical creatures; he only ever felt a sense of pain that Arthur could never remember who exactly bought him his first unicorn. At any rate, Cade didn't pick on Arthur for his small quirk. Besides, it's not like he could talk...he had stuffed _dragons_ upstairs.

"Don't laugh at me!" Arthur snapped. Cade uncrossed his arms and placed both hands on his hips.

"I'm not laughing at you; I find it sweet actually," he said, pursing his lips slightly. Arthur blinked and nodded.

"Oh. Right," he said, averting his eyes again, cheeks highlighted with pink hues. He cleared his throat. "When is dad coming back?"

Cade blinked at the swift change in topic and realised that he had unintentionally embarrassed his brother. Instead of calling him out on it though, Cade decided to humour the boy. "I don't know. He usually calls ahead of time, but we never really get anything from him until the day before he returns," he explained, almost bitterly.

Arthur frowned. "He...he doesn't send anything? At all? Are you lying to me? Why wouldn't he send anything?" he demanded, feeling his body tense up with aggravation. Cade held up his hands quickly.

"I'm not lying to you. He really doesn't send anything to us. Why would he anyway?" he asked. Arthur rolled his eyes.

"Oh, I don't know? Maybe to let us know that he's alive? Maybe because he wants to know how we're doing?" he questioned sarcastically. "I mean, it's not that hard to send an email or a letter, is it? I know being in the SAS is difficult, but surely he has the time to just send us a quick text or something!"

Cade blinked. "S-A-S?" he asked slowly. "You think he's...in the SAS?"

"Of course he is!" Arthur snapped back, hands on hips and looking royally pissed off. Cade blinked again and furrowed his brows. He wondered whether it would be the right thing to just lie and allow Arthur to carry on thinking like this. He knew Arthur hated liars but...surely one little white-lie couldn't hurt? After all, if it kept Arthur happy and ignorant, then it honestly wouldn't be that bad.

Right?

"R-Right. Of course he is. I-I didn't know that you knew," he said, his tone and expression pained. Arthur rolled his eyes and sighed.

"Well I'd be a piss-poor excuse for a son if I didn't know what he was doing," he muttered. Cade flinched at the irony of Arthur's words and licked his lips nervously.

"Y-Yeah. Right," he murmured.

Arthur looked at him oddly before returning his attention to the task at hand. Pulling out a bottle of semi-skimmed milk, he placed it next to his mug and began his search for the teabags. Cade watched him with slight pity as Arthur began to open up drawers and cupboards, looking for the desired teabags. Arthur hated having to look for teabags and found it annoying when he had all the other ingredients for making tea, but never the actual teabags themselves. He especially hated it when this occurred in the morning and he had no energy to search for them..

Arthur felt that feeling right now, except ten times worse because he could feel his brother's gaze burning into the back of his neck. To say it was unnerving would be an understatement.

Cade could feel that Arthur was beginning to get annoyed and as such, offered his two cents. "The pot of teabags is in the cupboard above the sink," he said.

Arthur stiffened at the sound of his brother's voice. "Thanks," he stated, closing the drawer he had been searching.

"You're welcome."

The uncomfortable silence returned.

Cade watched Arthur continue his search for the teabags in the correct cupboard. However, Arthur was vertically challenged and couldn't reach the back of cupboard as well as his other brothers could; but he wasn't exactly going to ask for help. And Cade wasn't going to offer in case Arthur bit his head off again.

The uncomfortable silence stretched.

...

...

...

It was Arthur, however, who broke it this time though.

"S-So, are you going to tell Andrew and Seamus that I'm leaving soon?" he asked, making Cade jump slightly.

The older blond frowned and hummed in thought. "Of course. It's only right. They shouldn't be kept in the dark if you're going to leave," he said, the 'again' he wanted to tag on to the end of his sentence hung in the air between them. Arthur wrinkled his nose.

"Why though? It's not like they'd care," he muttered.

Cade froze slightly. "W-Why would you think that?" he asked.

"Isn't it fucking obvious? They hates me; you all hate me," Arthur said darkly, blindly searching for the pot of teabags in the cupboard. Cade blinked and frowned, feel a sharp stab at his stomach as Arthur spoke with such bitterness and coldness.

"Y-You really don't think that...do you?" Cade asked hesitantly. Arthur turned to stare at him and raised a brow, as if to say 'no fucking _duh_'. He genuinely believed it was freaking obvious. Even a blind man could see how much his brothers hated him. Jesus...where the fuck was the teabags? Had Cade been lying to him again?

"Are they even in here?" Arthur muttered to himself, unaware of Cade silently shaking behind him.

"D-Do you think that...that I h-hate you?" he asked, frightened of Arthur's answer. The younger boy gave up on his quest to find the teabags (Cade _had_ been lying, lying, lying) and turned to face Cade. He blinked in surprise at how badly his older brother seemed to be holding himself. Arthur licked his lips nervously and shrugged.

"You do," he said simply. Then he paused. "You do hate me, right?" he asked, feeling quite unsure as he took in Cade's reaction.

Cade clutched at his chest and fell into the nearby seat at the table. Arthur couldn't help but recognise the seat as the same one that Andrew had sat on when he refused Arthur the muffin earlier. Humming, Arthur glanced over to where the muffin still sat, just waiting to be eaten.

"No," Cade said in a hushed voice. "And neither does anyone else in this family." His voice hardened. "That muffin is fucking proof, Arthur!"

The youngest Brit wrinkled his nose and gave his brother a dry glare. "What? What does the muffin have to do with this? Hmmm? Did the muffin tell you that itself? Don't be so fucking stupid," he sniped, leaning against the kitchen counter with his arms crossing his chest protectively.

Cade flushed. "No, what I meant was that Andrew left that for you! Because he wanted you to have it. Because he cares about you!" he said earnestly.

Arthur took one look at him before releasing a harrowing, cold, hollow laugh. It raised goosebumps on Cade's arms and left the older Brit on edge. He had never heard Arthur utter such a sound before; he didn't like it one fucking bit. "Cares for me? Oh, how did I not see that before? How did I not notice that all those cigarette burns, all those broken bones, all those years of tormenting me, killing that rabbit and fucking with my mind...how did I not see that that was just his way of showing how much he fucking CARED for me!"

"Arthur!" Cade exclaimed in shock. "Please...d-don't say such things out loud!"

"Why? Scared someone might hear them? Scared that someone might overhear what Andrew has been doing to me? Worried that one of your major sources of income and finance will get sent to prison? Where he fucking belongs?" Arthur taunted him, voice cold and harsh.

"N-No...I mean y-yes...I mean...please Arthur just be _quiet_!" Cade pleaded, rubbing his temples wearily. "I know he did a lot of unforgivable shit to you and I know that half of that shit should give him a one-way ticket to prison but...you have to understand that he does care for you! He does!"

"Fuck you!" Arthur snapped. "He doesn't give a flying fuck about me!"

Cade slammed a hand down on the table. "Yes he does! He just finds it hard to express his care for you!"

"Don't make excuses for him! He's a cold-blooded twat and he deserves to rot in hell!" Arthur declared, indignant that Cade would even suggest that there was a reason behind Andrew's behaviour, besides that fact that he was just a bastard.

"It's true! He can't...express himself in a positive way. Andrew...he can't...he's just incapable of showing any love towards anyone. Or anything for that matter. He's almost like a sociopath in that way. But he's not one. He's just different," Cade said, knowing all too well that his explanation was crappy.

Arthur snorted. "He seems perfectly fine in expressing himself negatively. He's shown off that ability time and time again," he muttered. Cade frowned.

"That's not really true," he said quietly. Arthur quirked a brow.

"Oh? How so? 'Cause I fucking find it hard to believe that he's really _that_ emotionally retarded!" Arthur snapped, earning a glare from Cade due to the insult.

"Hey! Listen, it _is_ true. Both Seamus and Andrew find it hard to express _any_ emotion," Cade began slowly. "Ever since mum's death, we all just sort of...shut off. Andrew especially; he was her favourite to be honest. Never really found one without the other. He just completely fell apart after she died giving...giving birth to you," his voice remained constant, distant and hollow. As if he had detached himself from the world in order to cope with telling the story.

"I know that they blame me," Arthur said bitterly. "For being born...for killing her. They all look at me like I was born to kill."

Cade flinched. "There's no such thing as a born murderer! You didn't kill her. She was ill during the pregnancy anyway. It was a miracle that even you survived! It's just that...only I could really see that. Only I could hold you without fear of crying or breaking down. Not even dad could do it at first, but eventually he managed it. It's funny though, because you don't even look like her. She had Andrew's hair...and my eyes. You though, you're the complete opposite of her. Blond hair, green eyes. Male as well. I just didn't understand why they couldn't bear looking at you. I certainly didn't mind it...I actually saw you as a gift that mum left behind. Stupid, right? All those Sunday church lessons went to my head and all I could think of, the only thing that kept me from breaking down like the rest of them, was that you were some kind of angel that mum sent down for us to look after..."

"An angel?" Arthur snorted. "What the fuck?"

"Hey! I was fucking four, what else was I supposed to think?" Cade snapped back. Then he softened and sighed. "Sorry. Anyway, after a while we sort of went back to normal. Seamus and...and _Aislinn_ started playing with you like normal, dad went back to work and I became your...babysitter, for lack of a better word. Andrew...he just couldn't find it in himself to connect to you," he went on, whispering the sister's name quietly, as if scared that Seamus might hear and kick off.

"Really? I never would have guessed," Arthur said, clicking his tongue and rolling his eyes.

Cade frowned at him. "Less of the attitude please? As I was saying, Andrew couldn't connect with you. He wanted to. He even tried to; he was the one to buy you your first unicorn but...he just couldn't connect with you on an emotional level. Or any level actually. At first, he was actually angry at himself for failing to bond with you. He thought he had failed mum in some way. Then that anger started to grow and fester and soon he became angry at you. He figured that it was easier to be angrier you than himself. At least then he could 'exert' that anger without resorting to harming himself. Which he did come close to, mind you...but then, I don't know, he became twisted? He just saw you as this demon who killed his mother and was now replacing her in everyone's lives. I guess he was confused and jealous at how much attention you were getting when mum was still dead. I think...he first snapped when you were two."

"He...wanted to love me? He actually wanted to love me?" Arthur asked, disbelieving in what he was hearing. Andrew? His brother Andrew? Buying him his first unicorn? Really? "Are you fucking serious? And he didn't even love me back then?"

Cade blinked. "I think it was more of a case that he didn't know how to love you. The only person he ever really loved was mum. He protected her and looked after her whenever dad was away on one of his 'top secret missions'. I just wish we all saw the pain he was going through before...before..." he trailed off, not knowing whether Arthur really wanted to know what happened next.

The youngest Brit bit his lip and pulled up a chair next to his brother. "Go on. You started this fucking story; you might as well end it. Besides, no one's ever told me this side of it before...it was all a case of 'you-killed-mum-therefore-we-hate-you'," he said, his gaze falling down to his knees. Cade reached over and squeezed Arthur's shoulder gently.

"I never hated you," he said. "Never."

Arthur shifted in discomfort, keeping his eyes averted. "Go on then; what happened when I was two?"

Cade smiled sadly and cleared his throat. "Ah, of course. It was your birthday and dad was home for once. You know, being a...a spy and all means abnormal holiday times and days off. This was the first birthday of anyone's that he had managed to be home for. It was actually quite lovely. I think it was probably the last time I saw you smile or laugh because you were happy. It's one of my favourite memories." Cade's eyes turned misty as he began to remember that particular party.

It was just a family affair; a nice, private party with balloons and a cake and presents galore.

Until Andrew snapped.

_"This isn't a day for fucking celebrating! It's a day for fucking mourning! Or have you all really forgotten mum?"_

Wincing, Cade returned to the present and face Arthur with a small, sad smile.

"He didn't like that we were celebrating your birthday. He thought we should be at the graveyard paying our respects. His anger scared you and made you cry. Dad went fucking crazy, scolding him for upsetting his 'baby brother'. That's when Andrew just...changed. He glared at you, said, 'that isn't my brother, that's a fucking murderer' and stormed off. Dad tried to calm him down and make him see reason, but he had to leave the next day for some...mission of his. After that, everything changed. Andrew had somehow managed to convince Seamus and Aislinn that you were...a killer. And that it was your fault that Aislinn no longer had a female-figure to look up to. So Aislinn started to resent you. Then, what one twin does, the other shortly followed. They just became a team of...of bullies. Hurting you and tormenting you at every step..." Cade whispered, remembering some of the awful things that occurred in their house.

Arthur blinked blankly. "And you? What the fuck did you do? Or rather, what the fuck didn't you do?" his voice was hard and icy, his anger bubbling up and ready to burst. This story was all well and good, but it didn't mean that his brothers or sister would receive any forgiveness from him. Not even a single fucking thought of forgiveness.

Fuck. Forgiving Francis was one thing...forgiving his family? That was just asking too much.

Cade flinched. "Nothing. I was too scared that they would turn on me too. I am a coward and I am so, so, so sorry Arthur. If I could turn back time and change everything then I would. But I can't. I can only offer you my apologies," he begged, his large eyes begging Arthur to understand. The youngest however scoffed and stood up with a sneer on his face.

"Fuck off Cade! If you turned back time, chances are you would probably act in the same, cowardly way you did before! Fuck you!" the blond snapped, twisting his body to storm out of the kitchen. A firm grip on his arm held him back however and Arthur found himself looking in deep, sad eyes once more.

"Please. Understand...no one in this house hates you. Not even Andrew. Please believe me!" Cade begged him. Arthur snorted.

"Seamus doesn't hate me? _Andrew_ doesn't hate me? Really? And what the fuck gave you that idea?" he asked scornfully.

Cade sighed and his entire body just collapsed in exhaustion. "When...when you left...you broke our hearts. Especially Seamus' heart. And yes, he does have a heart! He had to watch his mum die, his dad leave time and time again, his twin walking out to never return and then you! You left us! You disowned yourself and you hurt him. Fucking hell Arthur, Seamus _cried_ because he felt like everyone was leaving him and that it was his fault. He sobbed all night. Because _you_ left Arthur!"

Arthur couldn't believe what he was hearing. He didn't want to believe it...

"Why the fuck would he cry? He fucking hates me! Everyone fucking hates me! Let go!" Arthur shouted, yanking his arm out of Cade's grip. "You're lying. I know you are! Seamus would never cry because I left! He probably threw a fucking party and got drunk and forgot all about me, 'cause_ no one fucking cares about me_!" He was screaming now, his throat burning and sore. His eyes burning with angry tears and his entire body shaking with rage.

In shock, Cade stumbled back, helplessly watching as his brother screamed himself hoarse.

"If he cared so fucking much about me, then he should have treated me properly beforehand! He should have fucking loved me! All of you, you were supposed to protect me! I was your fucking brother! You were supposed to care about me! But you didn't, you never did! Why didn't you? Why didn't any of you care for me? I was your brother!" Arthur screamed, green eyes burning and voice breaking on each higher pitch.

Cade flinched at each hateful word that issued from Arthur's lips. "You're still our brother! Don't say you 'were'; you still are! You're still our brother," he begged, feeling his own tears fall down his cheeks.

"_No, I'm fucking not_!" Arthur cried out, his throat strained and burning, his body trembling and his eyes brimming with tears.

Cade did nothing but watch as the youngest Kirkland turned and stormed up the stairs, his sobs echoing throughout the house. Hearing Arthur slam his bedroom door shut, caused him to collapse on the ground in tears. He did nothing but add his own sobs to the noise of Arthur's.

...

...

...

...

Slamming the door shut, Arthur leaned against it and tried to force himself to stop crying. He clenched his eyes shut and held his hands tightly around his mouth; soft sobs rippled against his hands as the Brit tried to calm down. His muscles tightened and his body hunched over as his throat constricted and ached.

Swallowing hard and repeatedly, Arthur forced his tears to die down and his sobs eventually died down to soft hiccups. Carefully, Arthur shakily drew a breath and began to pad across his room, his legs wobbly and unstable like a new-born deer's. He tried to reach the window so he could crawl out and sleep on the roof; just as he did when he was younger and was feeling upset.

Feeling his legs beginning to buckle, however, Arthur decided to forgo his original plan and just threw himself onto his bed, shoving his head under the pillow in hopes of smothering his thoughts. _They don't care. They hate you. They've always hated you. Aislinn never played with you. Seamus never even looked at you. Cade is just being a lying liar. No one cares. They don't care. They hate you. Everyone hates you!_

Feeling more sobs erupt from his throat, Arthur flung his pillow away from him and grabbed the nearest comfort toy he could find and wept into it.

The unicorn's soft scents of primroses and icing sugar made him cry all the more.

X-x-X-x-X

Instead of returning to Ludwig's flat, Lovino made a beeline to 'The Café Around The Corner'.

He needed caffeine and he needed it quickly. For those who don't know, Lovino lived off caffeine. He didn't function properly without it and if you thought Lovino was bitchy enough normally, then you should see what he was like when he hadn't had any coffee for five hours. It's motherfucking scary.

With strong, determine footsteps, Lovino crossed the Academy's campus and made his way to the café. Glancing at his watch, he saw that he had at least one hour before the café closed. Unfortunately, Lovino didn't understand that the last hour of being open for a café was a really awkward time, considering the fact that those who worked there tried to clean up as fast as possible so they can leave just as quickly.

Those who worked at 'The Café Around The Corner' were no exception. So, without any regard as to how those who were working in the café were feeling, Lovino stormed straight into the place like he fucking owned it. He slammed the door open so hard, that it caused the windows to quiver slightly. Then, with the same amount of gusto, he slammed it shut and stalked straight up to the bar.

"Caramel mocha. Now," he demanded.

Lucky for him, it was Yong Soo who was working. If it had been Yao, then Lovino would have found himself being thrown out with a wok straight up his ass. Kiku, on the other hand, would have just blinked blankly at him until Lovino said 'please'. After all, it was only polite. And courtesy is highly valued in this day and age, no matter how rare it is to find in certain establishments.

Yong Soo grinned. It was totally empty in the café and as such, he was the only one left to close it up. Lovino found it rather unnerving that he had been handed such a responsibility on his own, seeing as Yong Soo is hardly mature enough to handle it. Yet, what he didn't know was that Kiku or Yao came back after two hours or so just to make sure he's done that job right. Nine times out of ten, he hasn't.

"Sure," Yong Soo chirped, giving Lovino the thumbs up. "But it'll cost you double, seeing as it's nearly close-up-time and all."

The Italian scowled. "Cost me double? Who the fuck made up _that_ shitty rule? And what gives you the idea that I even have fucking money in the first place? Look at me! Does it look like I have money?" he snapped. Yong Soo just smirked and crossed his arms.

"I just invented the rule and since I'm working right now, you ought to obey it!" he declared smugly. "Also...don't worry about the cost; I'll just put it on your tab!"

Lovino's eye twitched. "I remember the last time you put our drinks on a tab. Arthur said that Kiku almost lost his shit. Why the fuck would I want to put more debt onto a tab that shouldn't even fucking exist?" he asked.

Yong Soo just shrugged. "Why wouldn't you if you have no money?" he responded. Lovino took that as probably the smartest thing that Yong Soo would ever say to him and just decided to fuck it.

"Fine, what-the fuck-ever. Just get me my mocha. And make it properly this time, dammit!" the Italian demanded. Yong Soo just rolled his eyes and huffed.

"Look, it's not my fault that you picked a drink that I obviously had no experience with in making! But this time will be different! Mocha is a supremely Korean drink and I know how to make it perfectly!" he declared.

Lovino blinked. Fuck caffeine. He needed alcohol in he was going to deal with shit like this.

"Don't suppose you have some wine or something lurking about in here?" he asked dryly. Yong Soo slapped a hand across the Italian's mouth and shushed him.

"Quiet! You can't go around saying things like that in here! Do you even know what Yao could and would do to me if he knew half of the things that I had smuggled in here?" Yong Soo asked, his eyebrows rose in shock as if Lovino was _THE_ stupidest child he had ever come across. Lovino slapped the hand away from his mouth and rubbed the crazy-germs off him.

Hey, crazy could be contagious. I'm just sayin'!

"So you do have alcohol in here?" Lovino asked.

"Maybe-e~!" Yong Soo sang playfully. Oh, he never thought that messing around with the Italian boy would be just so easy!

Lovino blinked, fully prepared to kick the smug little fucker's smirk straight off his face. "Do you have alcoholic fucking drinks in here, or not? 'Cause I really cannot be bothered with going to 'The Boombox' or a shitty pub tonight!"

Yong Soo exhaled a dramatic sigh and started to list off the alcoholic drinks he had stashed in one of the cupboards in the back. "We -and by we, I of course, mean I- have wine, whiskey, rum, beer, champagne, sake, tequila, vodka, brandy, Bailey's, sangria—"

"Shut up! For the love of fucking God, shut the hell up!" Lovino interrupted. "I get the fucking idea. Jesus...how the hell did you manage to sneak so much shit in here? And not that I care, but where the fuck do you put it?"

Yong Soo wriggled his eyebrows. "You really want to know?"

Lovino's eyes twitched. "Do I fuck?" he hissed. "Fuck it. You're fucking insane. Why the hell do you have so much alcohol in here? Who the hell buys it? And what the hell is this 'Bailey's' shit?" he demanded, honey-coloured eyes darkening with frustration. Why did he come here again? Why?

Yong Soo decided to ignore the majority of his questions and just answered the last one. The only one he could answer anyway, without giving away important names or any tricks of the trade. After all, if magicians never give away their secrets then neither should bootleggers.

"Bailey's is alcoholic Irish cream," Yong Soo stated. "It's the best because it goes with anything. And because Korean's invented it."

Lovino blinked, only slightly annoyed that the Korean had ignored his other questions. "So why is it called _Irish_ cream then?"

A beat of silence.

Lovino had to duck the oncoming spoon that came flying at his head. "Holy fuck!" he snapped, ready to tear Yong Soo apart. Starting at his stupid smile.

"Well don't ask silly questions then! Anyway, I'm gonna assume that you want some of it then, yeah?" The Korean chirped. Lovino just cursed him under his breath.

"Yeah. Whatever," he muttered.

Yong Soo beamed. "It's so nice to see people taking such an interest in Korean culture," he sighed, a dreamy smile on his face as he began to take out the required equipment to make Lovino's drink. "Especially when people today just don't seem to appreciate just how much Korea has done for them~!"

Lovino eyed him dryly. "You're full of shit," he stated. "And I'm going to sit as far as fucking possible from you right now. The only time you're allowed to talk to me is when you're giving me my damn mocha. Talk to me at any other time and I'll kick your ass. It's a new rule that_ I_ just invented." He finished with a sweet smile, before turning on his heel and waltzing off to the furthest booth he could find. Yong Soo couldn't help but imagine a '**#swag**' sign lighting up above the Italian. Smirking smugly, he couldn't help but think how Koreans had invented swag and now everyone was jumping on the bandwagon.

The Italian slid smoothly into the booth and leant against the window, raising his legs up to rest along the seat he was sat on. The view from the window wasn't much; the sky was dark and the stars were mostly hidden amongst the clouds. There was nobody walking around and only three cars had driven past. Lovino sighed as he realised just how boring his life had become now that he had cut all ties with Arthur and Matthew. (And Antonio, but Lovino isn't that ready to accept _that_ fact just yet.)

Despite being six feet under a slab of denial, Lovino couldn't help but think of the Spaniard. The whole Academy must know the whole story by now and that was something that was highly detrimental to his reputation. Also, the teachers must have caught wind of it as well. Which meant that his Grandfather must have heard about it by now. Which meant one of two things.

One; Antonio loses his dick, his pretty face and his ability to eat without a straw.

Two; a phone-call from said Grandfather, informing him of a very nice monastery just down the road from their local church that he had just enrolled Lovino in.

Not that Lovino even went to church. Nor was he even suitable for such an establishment. He was pretty sure the first rule of being in a monastery was being PURE and CHASTE and, oh yeah, a VIRGIN. Three things that Lovino really, really isn't. Although, they were three things that he had hoped Feliciano was, but judging from his porn-freak of a boyfriend, Lovino knew that his hopes were futile.

Oh. God. There he went again. Thinking about his stupid brother and his even more stupid boyfriend. Not that he could say much.

He was pretty fucking stupid as well.

Before Lovino could descend into a bubble of utter misery and angst, Yong Soo appeared before the Italian with a beaming smile. Presenting Lovino with a pink mug of caramel mocha, the Korean bowed slightly and then winked.

"There you go~! Now drink up quickly or I'm leaving you in here for the night! It's a new rule that I've just made up!" Yong Soo declared, clapping his hands and smiling in that annoyingly chirpy way of his. Lovino scowled and ignored him, flipping the Korean boy off as he turned back to the bar. He picked up the mug and wondered why the fuck it was pink. Lovino snorted; anyone who says that real men wore pink was obviously fucking high.

Either that or their name happened to be Arthur Kirkland. (Who could be high as well, considering his tendencies to talk to 'unicorns').

As Lovino turned the mug around, he paused as he caught sight of the picture imprinted on the mug and sighed. Fairies? Really?

Was the Fate's way of telling him to suck it up and just make up with his friends? What's next? A flying hockey puck to the face?

"God I fucking hate people," the Italian muttered under his breath. "Or maybe God just hates me."

Nursing his caramel mocha (with a sneaky shot of Bailey's in it), Lovino thought back to his conversation with Feliciano and groaned. He really hadn't gone about it in the correct manner; and his reaction wasn't any better. He also knew that the longer he stayed out; the worse he was making the whole situation. Lovino knew that once he went back, he'd have to deal with an angry German and a hysterical Italian brat.

He honestly didn't know which one was worse.

One could kill him and the other...would make him want to kill himself. Three guesses as to which was which.

Lovino sighed and took in a large gulp of his drink, wincing as the heat almost killed his taste-buds. Being in the same room as Arthur and Matthew always made him tense and on edge and he never really knew why. Whether they were arguing or just talking, Lovino always felt like they were getting close to him. It reminded him of how close Antonio got to him...and look how _that_ ended.

Rubbing his temples, Lovino wondered if pushing people away was a good thing. After all, wasn't it best to hurt other people before they hurt you?

Although Antonio did hurt him first. And Feliciano...

Fuck.

Lovino moaned as he remembered just how awful he had been to his brother. It only started out as a simple talk, but then Lovino's defensive mechanism kicked in. And after that...well.

Everything just turned to _shit_.

X-x-X-x-X

"Feli," Lovino began slowly. "We need to talk..."

"Oh, sure~! What about?" Feliciano asked, cocking his head to the side sweetly. Lovino watched the action with discomfort, his insides squirming and twisting, wondering is what he was about to do was right. Or smart. Or even fucking sane.

"U-Um...it's a-about...a friend," Lovino stuttered. Oh god. Was he really going down that route? Was he really that much of a wimp that he couldn't even grow the balls to just come out and say it properly?

Feliciano hummed and tapped his lip thoughtfully. "Is it about Arthur?"

Lovino spluttered and swore, his cheeks puffing out and turning red. "No! And he's not my fucking friend!"

"Oh? Of course he is, don't be silly~!" Feliciano said, beaming brightly as always. "So, is it about Matthew?"

"No-o," Lovino stated. "And he isn't my friend either!"

Feliciano frowned and shook his head. "Honestly, if they aren't your friends and you aren't talking about them, then I really don't know who you're talking about. It's not like you have any other friends...not that it's a bad thing! I'm pretty sure everyone would love to be your friend...but you're just so picky. Not that that's a bad thing either! Ludwig is very, very picky about his friends. Which is why he only really has Kiku and I~! I guess you and him are a lot more alike than I thought~!"

Lovino blinked. _You can't slap your brother. You cannot slap your brother. You. Can. Not. Slap. Feliciano._

"Feli," he said.

"Yeah?" was the response.

"You ever compare me to that potato-fucker again and I will shove a potato straight up your damn—"

"Okay! Okay!" Feliciano interrupted hurriedly, holding his hands up and shaking his head. "I won't do it again!"

Lovino rolled his eyes. "Tch! You better not," he muttered. Feliciano smiled softly, walking over to his brother so he could perch on the end of the sofa carefully. Glancing down at his brother's flustered and angry expression, Feliciano felt torn between wanting to hug the anger out of his brother and wanting his brother to just open up to him. But Feliciano knew that mission really was impossible.

There was a better chance in getting Ludwig to hold his hand in public than getting Lovino to open up to someone.

"So, you have this friend? A friend that I don't know about, which would be kind of impossible seeing as I know everything about 'cause you're my brother, plus it would be a little bit weird if you have a friend and I don't know about them. Oh! Lovi! He isn't some pervert off the internet is he? Because he could just be pretending to have a problem just to make you feel sorry for him and once you're all vulnerable and stuff, he might kidnap you and that will make me really unhapp—"

Lovino held up his hand. Feliciano was flushed and swaying slightly from lack of oxygen.

"First of all," Lovino stated. "Shut up. Second of all, who said it was a guy? Third of all, no he is not some creep off the internet. And yes, hell yes, it is possible for me to have a friend and for you to not know about them. You do not know everything about, just like I don't know everything about...you," he said, finishing quite quietly and losing his passion just a bit.

Feliciano blinked. "Oh. But you do know everything about me! I tell you everything!" he insisted.

"No. You don't," Lovino said firmly. "Now shut up and let me speak."

"But—" Feliciano started.

"Shut. Up," Lovino gritted out behind clenched teeth.

"O-Okay. So you have a friend...?" Feliciano prompted lightly, deciding to drop it for now.

"Right. I have this friend. And this friend...has this boyfriend and..." Lovino started, but found it hard when he was staring at the personification of innocence. "Well. He's not really a boyfriend anymore, 'cause they've broken up and all but—"

"Ah~! So this _is_ about Matthew or Arthur!" Feliciano declared. Lovino blinked and threw a pillow at him. "Lovi! That's not nice! You can't keep throwing things at people! Especially if those things don't belong to you. It's rude!"

Lovino honestly couldn't give a fuck about whether or not he actually owned the things that he threw at people. As long as they hit their target, he was fucking fine.

"Anyway! My friend broke up with their boyfriend. Dammit! That's not even the point," Lovino ranted, running a hand through his hair. Feliciano wrinkled his nose and found it odd that Lovino was getting so frustrated over a matter that didn't concern him. "The point is _how_ they fucking broke up!"

"But I already know how they broke u—" Feliciano started. Lovino held up a hand.

"Please Feli! Just shut the hell up!" he snapped. Then ran his hand through his hair again. Then sat down, stood up and paced for a while. Feliciano briefly wondered how long Ludwig would be in the kitchen. The German might be awhile...after all, there was a hell of a lot of Coco Pops on the floor. And with Ludwig's minor OCD-tendencies, the Italian knew that he might end up taking forever!

Feliciano turned his attention back to his brother and smiled encouragingly. "Go on," he said, tilting his head slightly. "I'll keep quiet; I promise~!"

Lovino snorted. "Good," he muttered. "R-Right. Fuck. So, my friend broke up with his- I mean _their_ boyfriend! Dammit! A-Ah...anyway, apparently some shit went down and my friend couldn't take it anymore and things just fell apart and he- _they_ left," he explained, clumsily trying to hide his obvious mistakes. Feliciano didn't point them out and nodded softly with a smile.

"Uh huh, and then what?" the younger Italian asked. Lovino licked his lips nervously and averted his eyes. Feliciano was gazing at him with such trust and love and Lovino hated it because he knew he was about to take all that away and hurt him. Fuck.

"W-Well my friend told me something..._interesting_ about the argument they had," Lovino said, playing with the loose strands on his cuffs as he forced each word out. "A-Apparently, they argued about my friend's brother. And how my friend's ex-boyfriend had some..._history_ with them." The older Italian kept his eyes on his cuffs, twirling a loose strand around his finger tightly before releasing it, only to repeat it all over again.

"O-Oh?" Feliciano uttered, feeling a small sense of foreboding settle in his stomach. But it couldn't be...right? After all, Lovino did say he was talking about his _friend_, right?

Right?

"Yeah. Oh," Lovino muttered. "My friend's ex-boyfriend told him about...how his brother had asked him out. And how he fucking regretted turning him down. Funny, huh? I mean, my friend had no fucking idea that this sort of shit had gone down, right? And his ex-boyfriend had just decided to unload all of this fucking..._shit_ onto him in the middle of a damn argument! So fucking selfish, right? And it's been plaguing my friend for days now and he can't fucking sleep without hearing his ex-boyfriend saying all that crap to him because it's...it's...it's just so...fucking..._wrong_!" Lovino's tone ended bitterly and coldly. He didn't even bother hiding the gender of his friend. He had finally found the chance to unload all of his shit onto to someone and unfortunately, that someone ended up being his brother.

"Oh," Feliciano whispered. _It's not Matthew. Gilbert hates Alfred very, very much. Not sure why though, Alfred is always nice to me~! A-Ah...and it can't be Arthur either, because Francis has told me some not-very-nice things about Arthur's brothers and...and...oh. No..._

"Yeah. Oh," Lovino repeated. His voice was cold and hollow and it made Feliciano flinch away.

"I...I-I really w-wanted to tell you," Feliciano started hesitantly, softly, slowly. "B-But I didn't want you to hate me! I-I just...Antonio was so lovely and he was so handsome and nice to me and...and I'm really sorry. I didn't notice that he liked you most. B-But I'm glad he does! Like you most, that is! Because then I never would have met Ludwig and I love Ludwig much more than Antonio! Honest! P-Please talk to me. Please look at me!" Feliciano begged, reaching out to touch Lovino's arm.

But the elder Italian whipped his arm away and turned on his brother, honey-coloured eyes bright with unshed tears. "Why? Why do you need _me_ to look at you! You have everybody else looking at you! You have Grandpa looking at you! And all the girls! And all your friends! And fucking Toni! Why do you need me as well? Why do you need me to look at you when it won't make a fucking difference?" Lovino spat, not making any sense at all.

Feliciano retracted his hand and held it to his chest. He hated arguments. He hated fighting. He especially hated doing those things with his brother.

"L-Lovi! I don't understand! Please stop yelling at me! Not everybody looks at me and I don't want them to either! I just want my brother! My _fratello_! Please stop yelling at me, you'll upset Ludw—" Feliciano pleaded, holding his hands up in a surrender position.

"FUCK FUCKING LUDWIG!" Lovino screamed. A smash could be heard from the kitchen. "Not everything is about that damn potato-bastard!"

The kitchen door slammed open and the blond German stormed in, blue eyes crazed with emotion. He glanced around the room, pausing slightly at Lovino's flustered and angered state, and found Feliciano cowering before his brother with tears streaming down his face. Now, there were few things in the world that could make Ludwig _snap. _One is cruelty to animals. Ludwig adores them and has three beloved dogs at his father's house. Two, if anyone hurts his brother. Ludwig had let the past few pranks slide as he knew that his older brother was a big boy and could handle himself. However, the day that Gilbert comes to him, hurt and in pain and crying his heart out, is the day that Ludwig will unleash hell upon the earth.

The third and last thing that could make him snap is a crying Feliciano. Not a 'crying-crocodile-tears-to-get-what-he-wants' Feliciano, but a 'crying-because-he-is-scared-and-is-hurt'. That kinda shit just didn't sit well with Ludwig.

With stiff angry steps that made his apartment tremble slightly, Ludwig stalked over to Feliciano and pulled the boy into his arms. The small Italian boy buried his face into his boyfriend's chest and wiped his tears on Ludwig's shirt. The German glared icily at Lovino, his eyes burning bright blue.

"I don't know what your problem is and I really do not care. But, if you even think about coming to this apartment again, I can guarantee that your Vespa which is still in my car, will be turned into pile of scrap, understand?" Ludwig demanded, his tone hard and frosty. Lovino swallowed deeply, all of the fight draining out of him quickly. He found himself to be incredibly tired and cornered and he just wanted to leave.

"N-No! Ludwig, please! Don't kick my brother out, it isn't his fault! Really!" Feliciano begged, pulling Ludwig's head down to face him properly.

Ludwig frowned and wiped away a stray tear. "Feliciano. He has done nothing but upset you and destroy the apartment and badmouth me at every minute. Why should I allow him to stay here? Why?" he asked sternly, holding Feliciano's shoulders tightly.

The Italian sniffed and frowned. "B-Because you wouldn't do that to Gilbert. You wouldn't throw Gilbert out and he makes a bigger mess than Lovino. He badmouths everyone and he upsets you a lot! B-But you wouldn't throw him out. W-Well...maybe you would, but not when he would be homeless with no one else to turn to. Please don't do that to my brother. Please?" he asked, cocking his head to the side and begging with the biggest and cutest pair of eyes he had ever made in his entire life.

Ludwig frowned and glared at the older Italian. Lovino was gazing down at the floor with fists clenched and dry tears staining his cheeks. Ludwig did not like him. He was bossy and annoying and as foul-mouthed as his brother. Yet, he was related to the sweetest person in the world and Ludwig knew that if he kicked Lovino out then he'd pretty much be breaking Feliciano's heart.

And if he didn't kick Lovino out, then he would be giving Feliciano the go-ahead to manipulate him emotionally whenever he wanted. Fuck.

Obviously, he needed to tread carefully.

"Fine, he may stay," he stated, causing Feliciano to cheer brightly. "However! He is to stay out of my way; he is to take that damn scooter of his out of my car. He is paying for any and all damages that said scooter may have caused my car and there are to be no more..._chick-flicks_ in my apartment," he stated. It almost killed him to utter the words 'chick-flick' but he managed it without any lasting damage. He turned to face Lovino, the older Italian ready to erupt again from the rules that Ludwig was laying down. "You are to never stay out later than ten. Yes, ten. You are not to bring your friends around here. You are not to enter my bedroom anymore. You are not allowed to insult me or my heritage. You stay away from my brother and his friends. Am I understood?" Ludwig asked.

"Fuck. You," Lovino hissed indignantly. "Fuck you if you think that I will—"

"He does! He understands perfectly, right brother? Right!" Feliciano interrupted before Ludwig really did kick his brother out.

"Shut up Feli! Stop making decisions for me! Just stop...everything!" Lovino snapped. Ludwig growled, but the Italian was already on his way out. Grabbing his jacket and opening the door with the spare-key that Feliciano had made him, Lovino turned around to face his brother one more time. "You know, it really isn't fair. For once, just once, I thought that I finally had something to call my own. Something that I had that you didn't. Something that I finally earned and could keep all to myself. _My_ Antonio. But surprise, surprise! I didn't even get that! Why? Because of you! It's always fucking you!"

Feliciano winced and buried himself in Ludwig's chest once more. "Stop, stop, stop!" he chanted under his breath. "I'm sorry, I said I was _sorry_!"

Ludwig glanced down, utterly confused. "I don't understand? What has happened?" he asked, nudging Feliciano slightly.

"Oh? He doesn't know?" Lovino taunted. "How fucking priceless! Guess what potato-fucker! Your boyfriend was in love with Antonio! In fact, he was so in love with him, that he asked the damn bastard out! Betcha didn't know that, eh?"

"Wh-What?" Ludwig asked, seemingly surprised as he looked down to the boy in his arms. Feliciano softly sobbed in response.

"Oh, and one more thing," Lovino stated, holding the door-knob tightly. "Screw your fucking rules!"

And with that, he slammed the door shut.

X-x-X-x-X

"God. I am so fucking stupid."

Remembering Feliciano's cries and his tears as his 'big brother' screamed at him, Lovino finally felt like he had earned the title of 'World's Official Asshole'. Because he was and he is and he probably will remain that way until he dies. He had been an asshole to everyone (with a Y-chromosome anyway) he had ever met and it was something that just wouldn't change.

Or could it...?

Ah. Nope. Lovino down the rest of his drink and slid down his seat until he was lying across it. He didn't know why he was so mean. He just was. It was a simple fact of life that Lovino Vargas was mean. Without any given reason as to why he was mean too. No one in his family was like him, so it couldn't be genetics or anything like that. And he had been sort of nice when he was a kid...wasn't he?

Apart from that time when he had bitten his Grandpa for giving him food-poisoning, therein making him a vegetarian for the rest of his life. Then there was that time where he had broken the nose of that little blond boy who had broken his brother's heart. Then there were the seventeen baby-sitters he had single-handedly tormented and had gotten rid of...

Ah.

Maybe he wasn't such a nice kid after all. But surely he wasn't always mean. There had to be a certain event that kick-started his shitty attitude towards the world and everyone in it. Unless maybe this was it. Maybe Lovino was just destined to be a bastard in life. Maybe he was destined to not have friends, or any lovers, or just plain anyone who would overlook Feliciano and see Lovino instead...

Pffft! Now he was thinking like Matthew. God, how depressing!

Wrinkling his nose, Lovino threw an arm across his face and groaned. _God...I'm so freaking tired of all this shit. I'm freaking tired, full-stop. I don't want to go back there though. At least, not yet. Perhaps I could just have something of a siesta here? Yong Soo really wouldn't leave me here over night, right? And if he did, I would fucking kill him. Humph!_

The Italian sighed and closed his eyes. Forty winks wouldn't hurt anyone, right? Besides, Yong Soo would come and wake him up once it was time to close up the café...

Right?

X-x-X-x-X

"You're such a freaking idiot! God, how Kiku puts up with, I really don't know!"

Kiku opened his kitchen door to reveal an American boy curled up in a corner with his hands over his ears and tears steadily making their way down his cheeks. The Japanese boy frowned at the sight and turned to face Matthew who had his back to his brother. The Canadian had his hands on hips and his nose turned up, his mouth continuously spewing out insult after insult at his brother.

Kiku was just glad that it hadn't turned physical.

"I honestly don't know how anyone puts up with you! In fact, I can sort of actually understand why Arthur dumped you! I mean, anyone who can tolerate your level of obnoxious pig-headedness, must be a saint! Or Japanese. Either one or the other. But that's not the point! The point is that you're a crap brother, a crappier boyfriend and the crappest best friend, that this world has ever seen!" Matthew ranted. "And then there's the kind of son you are. Which—"

"Ah!" Kiku interrupted sharply, knowing that Matthew was stepping into dangerous territory. "Mr. Williams. Perhaps it is best if you were to resist shouting at your brother for the time being," he said softly. The Canadian seemed to have snapped out of his trance and turned to face the Japanese boy with an expression of shock. Scrunching up his eyes, Matthew silently asked Kiku if Alfred was okay.

Kiku merely shook his head and nodded in the direction of the American.

Matthew turned and blinked at the shaking figure of his brother and cringed slightly. "A-Ah...I'm sorry, I did it again, didn't I?" he said shakily. Kiku just gave him a curt nod and crouched down to comfort the emotional American. Matthew bit his lip and decided to allow them some private time. It wasn't the first time he had broken Alfred and it certainly wouldn't be the last time he left Kiku to pick up the pieces either.

He'll probably have to apologise later too.

Still buzzing from his heightened emotions, the Canadian slunk off to his room and fell onto his bed with a sigh. He had never really thought that his life would get this shit; then again, he had never really thought that he would do half the things he had done in his life. Fucking hell. Matthew lifted up his pillow from beneath his hand and contemplated smothering himself. It would be a very cowardly way to escape his problems, but Matthew was just fucking tired.

As he brought the pillow to his face, Matthew was interrupted by a sharp vibration on his bedside table. Giving the object a glare so fierce that lesser objects would have burst into flames, Matthew picked it up and flipped it open. He raised an eyebrow when he saw who had just sent him a text and briefly wondered if he was just dreaming and everything shitty that had happened to him was just part of his subconscious tormenting him.

Fucking subconscious...it's a complete bitch, I can tell you that.

The Canadian wrinkled his nose as he read the text that Ivan, of all fucking people, had sent him, informing him of hockey-practice that evening. _You are coming to the ice, right comrade? =)_

Matthew felt his eye twitch at the text but shrugged regardless. _Why not?_ He sent back, flipping it shut with a smirk. Tossing his phone up into the air and catching it smoothly, Matthew began to search around for his hockey gear. Most of his stuff, such as his guards and his skates, lived in the changing rooms anyway, unless they needed a good wash and as such Matthew was saved from the trouble of lugging around tonnes of gear.

Finding his hockey stick (which had managed to survive the trip out of his window) and his lucky puck, Matthew grabbed his uniform and shoved it into his bag. However, he paused at his jersey and lifted it up to eye the back of it. The number '_16_' was stitched neatly in the back with his surname, '_Williams_' printed above it. It was the only time anyone had ever spelt his fucking name right.

It was _two_ L's please, not one. How hard was it, really?

Carefully folding his jersey into his bag, Matthew tucked his stick and his puck in amongst the clothing and zipped it up. The buzzing feeling from earlier had come back with a vengeance and Mathew was eager to take it all out on the court.

Swinging his bag over his shoulder, Matthew left his room and entered the kitchen. He blanched at the sight that greeted him. His brother, who had clearly gotten over his earlier trauma, now had Kiku trapped in his lap with his lips attached the Japanese boy's ear. One hand was pressed against the small of Kiku's back, holding him in place, whilst the other was disappearing up Kiku's—oh. Oh god.

Oh _hell_ no!

Reaching in his bag, Matthew grasped his lucky puck and flicked it at his brother's head with a quick snap of his wrist.

His aim, as always, was perfect.

"Mother of fuck!" Alfred cried as the puck connected beautifully with his ear. Pulling away from Kiku and allowing the brunet to escape, the American began to curse his brother out using as many swear words that he had learnt from Arthur as he could. "Fucking bastard! What the hell?" Alfred demanded, rubbing his ear with a wince. Matthew rolled his eyes and held out his hand.

Kiku, with a small smile on his face picked the puck up and threw it back to him. Matthew caught it smoothly and tucked it back into his bag. Alfred was in disbelief over the conspiracy against him. His own brother. And his own boyfriend. How fucked up was that?

"Are you going out tonight?" Kiku asked, his private smile shining in his eyes. Matthew grinned and hitched his bag up slightly.

"Yo! You shouldn't be talking to him!" Alfred cried in outrage. "That bitch just threw a hockey puck at me!"

He was promptly ignored. "Yeah, I have hockey practice; don't wait up, kay?" Matthew said. Kiku nodded, happy that Matthew had found something to take his mind off his current predicament.

"Are you listening to me?" Alfred asked loudly. "A fucking hockey puck! I have a bruise the size of an egg on my head!"

He was ignored. Again. "I understand. And don't worry, I won't," Kiku said, bowing to Matthew in his courteous manner.

Matthew shifted uncomfortably. "Y-You really don't have to bow to me," he said, slightly embarrassed. Kiku blinked at him.

"But...that would be impolite," he said simply. Matthew opened his mouth to retort, but decided to leave it alone. After all, he was glad that someone with lovely manners was dating his brother. He was half-hoping that the behaviour would rub off.

"Hey! Dudes, pay attention to me!"

Then again...maybe not.

X-x-X-x-X

The name of the ice-rink that the Academy used the train their hockey team, is 'Silver Palace'. They held hockey practice twice a week and for Matthew, those two days a week were heaven for him. The 'Silver Palace' was his second home and if anyone had anything bad to say about it, then they could meet his hockey puck.

Face first.

He was currently in the changing rooms, pulling off his clothes and slowly putting on his gear. His teammates were doing the same around him with their coach waiting for them out on the ice. It was going to be a standard practice today, concentrating on scoring penalties and skating around some cones. Matthew really didn't mind what they did, so long as it took his mind off...certain other matters.

"Ah! Matthew, it's good to see you here," a familiar voice with a thick Russian accent greeted him with a knock on the head. The Canadian turned and grinned up at Ivan, seeing the boy already in full uniform. Matthew tugged on his shirt and flattened it against his chest guards.

"It's good to be here. I was going crazy at Kiku's apartment and—" Matthew blabbered, tugging on his gloves as he did so. Ivan held up his hand and smoothly brought Matthew's ramblings to a stop.

"You are at Kiku's place? And why not Alfred's?" Ivan questioned, tilting his head and stepping back slightly to allow Matthew to duck down and pull on his skates. The Canadian boy wondered if Ivan knew what had happened. He must have; in a school as small as the Academy, news got around fast. And if that news just so happened to be about three boys getting suspended for 'torturing' their three exes...then not only would the Academy know, but the entire freaking world!

"Suspended, remember? And I could go to Alfred's apartment, but it hasn't been decontaminated yet. Or fumigated for that matter," Matthew muttered.

"Ah yes," Ivan nodded. "I remember. You must tell me the whole story. I do enjoy a good story; especially if Gilbert is the one getting hurt in it." The Russian boy smiled brightly. Matthew furrowed his brows and inched backwards ever-so-slightly.

"Why do you hate Gilbert so much?" he asked, tightening the laces on his skates.

Ivan's smile disappeared. "He insulted Katyusha once," he said coldly. "And he hurt you. Isn't that enough?"

Matthew wondered how one so scary could also sound so innocent. "W-Well...hate is such a strong word. And I got my own back on him. So did you, if I recall a certain penis-crushing incident correctly," Matthew stated. Ivan hummed in content.

"Good times," he sighed. "And hate is just a word. There is no such thing as a 'strong' word. Just strong feelings. And I strongly dislike Gilbert."

"Fair enough," Matthew said simply. After all, who was he to argue with Ivan Braginsky?

Ivan nodded. "So, will you tell me your story?" he asked.

"I don't think now is such a good time," Matthew mused, watching as his teammates slowly filed out of the changing room's door and out onto the ice-rink. Picking up his hockey-stick and lucky puck, Matthew followed them. Ivan closely behind.

"It is a good time, so tell me now," the Russian said firmly. Matthew couldn't help but snort softly.

"Oh? And who says?" he teased gently. For some reason, playing ice-hockey always brought out the confident, and almost cocky, side of him.

"I say. And what I say is the law seeing as no one would dare go against me," Ivan stated confidently. Matthew shook his head.

"I'll tell you later. Come on, let's go stretch," the Canadian said, skating out onto the ice with ease. Ivan frowned and decided to let it go for now. Besides, he could always get it out of the Canadian later. When Ivan Braginsky wants information, he gets it. No matter what method he used to acquire information or how legal said method was.

Matthew will tell him what he did to Gilbert Beilschmidt.

As they conducted their warm-ups and their stretches, Matthew kept his eyes firmly off everyone else and concentrated on loosening his muscles and flexing his body. He could feel Ivan keeping an eye on him throughout. The Russian was wondering if Matthew's situation would prove to be a distraction during the hockey game they had coming up. However, observing how intense Matthew seemed to be whilst doing the warm-up, Ivan wondered if it would be a problem at all.

And if it was going to be a problem regardless...then Ivan would have to interfere.

After all, that's what a good friend does, right?

Right.

As they finished up their warm-ups, the team gathered together in a line, facing their coach as he finished up placing out the cones on the rink. Matthew flipped his lucky puck over and over in his hand, quickening the pace when he felt the presence of a Russian beside him.

"Tell me now," Ivan said, skidding to a stop next to the Canadian.

"Later, I said," Matthew whispered and turned his attention to their coach who skated to a stop before them. Ivan frowned. It was 'later'. How much 'later' did 'later' have to be before Matthew told him? Hn. He turned from Matthew and looked over to their coach. He had set out all the cones in a zigzag style, leading up to the net that they had to score in. Their goaltender was already there, waiting.

"Tonight will only be quick!" their coach stated, blunt and to the point as usual. "So get a move on!"

Matthew watched as his teammates were quick to glide over to the cones, forming an orderly queue behind them and waited patiently for their turn. The Canadian grinned at how quick they were to obey their coach. Of course, you'd have to be utterly insane or stupid not to obey him. His aim with a hockey stick combined with his strength could easily take your head off.

He quickly skated over to join them, not risking the coach's wrath too. He glanced over his team, feeling right at home amongst his fellow teammates. They jostled and teased one another, poking at each other with their hockey sticks. Along with the cool air, Matthew felt...different. Like he was more important here. It was nice. His gaze ran over to Ivan who absentmindedly skated over and executed a perfect pirouette as he finished behind the Canadian.

"Ivan, are you a figure-skater or a hockey player?" Matthew teased playfully. It earned him a smack on the head with the flat side of Ivan's hockey stick.

"Comrade, I'd be careful about who you aim such insults to," the Russian warned, his tone a mixture of playful and dark. Matthew felt a shiver of fear race up his spine and he weakly smiled back. Fuck. Ivan was capable of making even the most deprived serial killers weep and wet themselves in terror. What chance did an innocent, little Canadian boy have?

"Y-Yeah, sorry about that," Matthew muttered, slowly shuffling down the line as each player completed their turn.

"I forgive you," Ivan said simply asked. "But I must ask, I am very impatient and I do not like people keeping me waiting. When will later come, Matthew?"

The Canadian swallowed hard. "A-Ah...I don't know. B-But I promise that I will tell you! And I never break my promise, okay?" he asked, hoping that Ivan will take that and not kill him with his bare hands.

Ivan, on the other hand, just smiled. "That is fine comrade," he said. "But I do believe it is your turn now."

Matthew blinked and turned to see that he was at the front of the queue. "Oh, right," he murmured, dropping his puck on the ground and glided over to the cones.

The Canadian perfectly skated rings around the cones, keeping full control of the puck and executing a beautiful wrist-shot. The puck flew and hit the back of the net as expected. His team cheered and chanted his name behind him. The goaltender completely missed it by blinking, but took it all in stride. Yeah, Matthew is that good at ice-hockey. Must be the Canadian blood in him. Obviously.

After scoring his goal, Matthew waited until the goaltender knocked his puck back to him. Then the Canadian glided away to the back of the line, smirking as he watched Ivan gracefully skate in and out of the cones. For such a big boy, Ivan was surprisingly very graceful on the ice, manoeuvring his strong build to his advantage and using his strength to not only hit the puck into the net, but through the net as well. He was welcomed with the same praise and applause as Matthew did.

Ivan skated away from the net, his purple eyes content and a small smile played on his lips. He skidded to a stop behind Matthew and tapped the younger boy on the head with his stick.

"Hey! Spearing is a major penalty Ivan!" Matthew warned him, pushing the stick out of his face. He bent down to pick up his lucky puck and received another knock on the head. He glanced and glared at the Russian.

"Ah, yes comrade, it is. But who is going to tell on me?" Ivan asked, his sweet smile still in place. Matthew blinked and thought for second; yeah, no one really was stupid enough or brave enough to snitch on Ivan Braginsky. Except Alfred.

Matthew still didn't know whether that made Alfred brave or stupid.

"Good point," the Canadian smirked, turning to praise another teammate who had managed to score a goal. Ivan never clapped or verbally gave praise, but he would incline his head just a little bit in acknowledgment. It was something that Matthew had come to learn as Ivan giving congratulations to someone silently. He wondered if anyone else knew what it meant...

"So, will you _now_ tell me about your antics concerning Gilbert?" Ivan asked, inching forward as their teammates completed the task. Matthew licked his lips nervously and chuckled.

"A-Ah, are you sure you want to talk about it know? I mean, it's a really long story," he said, flipping his puck over and over in his hand. Ivan watched the puck twist and turn in the Canadian's hand and hummed thoughtfully.

"I do not mind long stories. As long as you cut out anything that isn't important, then I will listen," he said simply. Matthew snorted and gazed up at the Russian dryly.

"Yeah, but that's the problem. What _you_ consider unimportant and what _I_ consider unimportant and two different kettles of fish," the Canadian stated.

Ivan just smiled. "Then you'll just have to figure out what I shall consider to be unimportant and cut those bits out of the story," he said. "Also, what do fish have to do with anything?"

Matthew shrugged. "Nothing. It's just an expression that...Arthur uses. Sometimes," he muttered, feeling uncomfortable with talking about his former friend. If Arthur was a former friend. Was Arthur still his friend? Was Lovino...? Huh...

"Ah," Ivan uttered. "He does say odd things sometimes, doesn't he?" he said, remembering the few times he had met Arthur Kirkland whilst he had dated Alfred. The times were short and brief, but Ivan distinctly remembered the Brit talking and stroking thin air. Pfft! And people thought _he_ had problems!

"Yeah! I know," Matthew said brightly, smiling slightly. Ivan returned his smile and decided to try and get the story out of Matthew again.

"You know who also says odd things?" he asked innocently. "Gilbert. He says many odd things about you whilst you are away."

Matthew blinked. "R-Really? What kinds of things?" he asked.

Ivan smirked. "I forget. Maybe I'll remember once you tell me about what happened between you and him..."

"I-Ivan," Matthew stuttered. "I told you, the story is too long to talk about right now!"

"Tell me it anyway," Ivan stated.

"B-But—" Matthew started. Really, the Russian was too stubborn for his own good. He was also incredibly scary and that didn't help Matthew with his situation not one bit. The Canadian stood there opening and closing his mouth like a fish, not sure of how to start his story and whether he should start it. Luckily for him though—

"_Williams_! Quit talking and start skating! Backwards this time!"

—his coach decided to choose this moment in time as the time to bark at him, saving him from having to spill the whole story to Ivan.

"I-I'll tell you later," he muttered quickly, dropping his puck on the ice and glided towards the cones.

"You better," Ivan said brightly, his eyes flickering slightly. Matthew knew there and then that, by not telling Ivan, he would be inevitably causing his death. Oh crap.

As Matthew turned to skate around the cones backwards, his gaze flickered over to the stadium seats. Sometimes girlfriends, boyfriends or just plain friends would come and watch as the team practiced. Like, most of the time, Matthew would see Ivan's sister, Katyusha sitting in the stands. She was really, really nice but also incredibly shy which is why Matthew really liked her.

She was also his first crush and his first kiss. Gilbert was utterly amazed and stunned when he had first found out and wondered why a girl like Katyusha, who had such a lovely figure, could turn a boy like Matthew gay. Matthew then spent an agonising two hours trying to convince Gilbert that Katyusha hadn't 'turned him gay' and that if the albino were to carry on saying it, then chances were, a certain Russian would impale him with a spoon.

A _wooden_ spoon.

Anyway, today Katyusha was sat as always in her reserved spot. Matthew smiled fondly. She was so well-liked amongst the team for her lovely nature, that they had actually reserved a spot for her in the stands. Katyusha was Ivan's personal mother-hen, a bit like Gilbert, but softer and nicer. She would usually bring some hot chocolate or bake some cakes for him and some extras for the team as well, to warm them up after practice. As such, she became incredibly loved by the guys on the team. Ivan was intensely protective of her, but also proud of how far she had come out of her shell.

Today, she was also accompanied by her little sister, Natalia. Natalia was incredibly pretty and actually won the Academy's 'Most Prettiest' award. Elizaveta had come second and Antonio cut a close third. Matthew still wondered how that was even allowed considering the award was female-only. Natalia was also voted 'Most Intense' and 'Most Likely To Have A License To Kill', where she beat both Roderich and Arthur respectively. Roderich had been voted because he can get pretty intense when he plays his piano. And Arthur was voted because he was British and some people genuinely believed that he was part of MI6.

Matthew feared for the world's intelligence sometimes.

Natalia wasn't shy like her sister; rather she was more outspoken and upfront over what she wanted. And most of the time, she wanted her brother's attention. Natalia was the type of sister who, when they were little, idolised their big brother because he protected them from the scary nightmares. I never had such a big brother, therefore I was left to fend for myself. It sucked.

As she grew up, she never really grew out of her idolisation and stayed as close to her brother as possible. She was as protective of Ivan as he was of Katyusha. And that was pretty damn protective. Seeing the two sisters in the stands, Matthew gave them a quick wave whilst keeping complete control of the puck. Seeing Katyusha wave back and Natalia giving him a slight nod, Matthew returned his attention to the task at hand.

As he reached the last cone, he turned around to practice his slap-shot. The slap-shot was considered to be one the hardest shots in ice-hockey, therefore, Matthew practiced it to death until it was perfect. In fact, he was so fucking close, he could almost taste it.

As Matthew turned, he faltered slightly as his gaze flickered upwards. What he saw totally destroyed his concentration and his slap-shot turned into a 'what-the-fuck-duck-before-I-decapitate-you' shot, causing the goaltender to fear for his life as the puck missed his head by mere inches. The puck rebounded off the bars of the goal, causing it to drop to the floor and slide pathetically back towards Matthew.

The noise brought Matthew's attention back to the situation at hand. When he realised he had missed the goal, he hissed in frustration and skated over to pick his so-called 'lucky' puck up. Flipping it over in his hands, Matthew returned to the back of the line, his face burning and his head kept low as he ignored the questioning glances of his teammates.

"Hey Mattie, you okay?"

"Woah! Fucking hell, you almost killed him!"

"Matthew, are you alright?"

Looking up at the last question, Matthew saw Ivan's questioning gaze and shrugged. "'M'fine. Honest...I just got a little...distracted," he murmured, trying hard not to glance over to the stadium again. Ivan cocked his head and hummed.

"Distracted? How?" the Russian asked, annoyance spiking through him as Matthew admitted to being distracted. He knew this would happen. He knew it!

How? Matthew internally snorted. How, indeed. A better question would have been '_why_ were you distracted', 'cause at least then he would have been able to answer.

Subtly and slowly, Matthew glanced over to the stands. Flinching, he averted his eyes quickly and glared down at the ice. Sure enough, they were still there. Five rows up, with a neutral expression on his face, red eyes blank and emotionless with a fluffy bird perched in his hair...was Gilbert. That, in itself confused Matthew to no end. Gilbert must _hate_ him by now, so why was he here?

Of course, that wasn't the only thing that caused Matthew to furrow his brows in confusion.

Two rows above Gilbert and six seats to the right...sat Lars. Rolling a cigarette expertly, whilst keeping his eyes on Matthew. His expression was just as blank, but then again, it was always like that. Matthew then wondered how Lars had found out that he had hockey practice on right now. Gilbert knew, naturally. They had exchanged timetables so they knew when to meet up and when they had other engagements to attend to. Lars, however, didn't know any of that and yet here he was.

Matthew didn't know whether that was a good thing or a bad thing.

"I...don't know," he muttered slowly, feeling Ivan's gaze pierce through him.

Ivan narrowed his eyes and glanced up, seeing Gilbert and Lars sitting up there with their eyes trained on the small blond before him. Ah. So his friend was having troubles concerning his love-life. And Gilbert. Again. Hmmm. If this was going to continue and if Matthew was going to get distracted again, then Ivan would have to sort the albino out.

Although, Matthew wouldn't be very happy if Ivan were to 'sort' Gilbert out, seeing as the Canadian was 'in love' with him. Pffft! Now, Ivan personally wasn't the best at romantic advice. He had only ever been with three people. Toris, who could be considered his childhood sweetheart, who was last seen stalking Natalia. Alfred, which really wasn't romantic. Or healthy now that he thought about it. And then there was Yao. Ivan, after realising that maybe he should try dating girls, asked him out. And then found out that Yao was a boy.

A boy who could knock ten fucks out of you if you were to imply that he was feminine.

Ivan fell in love with him before the first punch even made impact. Problem was, they weren't even together yet. Operative word being 'yet'.

Now, looking at all the evidence, Ivan concluded that perhaps Katyusha was better at stuff like this and that Matthew should really talk to her instead. Opening his mouth to suggest that Matthew came over to his house for the night, he found himself being rudely interrupted by his coach.

"Alright! That's enough for tonight. Head to the changing rooms boys!" he commanded, skating over to them with a stern expression. "Good practice today! Now get out of my sight!"

Matthew sighed as their lovable coach began to pick up the cones on the rink. Ivan glanced down at Matthew and decided to just ask the Canadian later. After all, it looked as if Matthew had a lot of things to think about.

Said Canadian slowly began to follow his teammates back to the changing rooms, only to pause as he couldn't help but glance back at the stands. His eyes widened in shock and confusion when he found that both Gilbert and Lars were gone. The Canadian hoped that they hadn't come together; he hoped even harder that they hadn't noticed each other at all when they left.

"Oi! Williams! Changing rooms, now!" his coach snapped. Matthew tore his sight away from the stands and nodded towards his coach. Skating quickly, Matthew left the ice without a second glance. His coach firmly gripped his shoulder and pulled him back slightly. "Nice work today," he said. Matthew glowed at the comment. "But if you ever think about getting suspended again, I'll replace all your teeth with pucks, got it?"

The fucker had been smiling as he uttered each and every word he said. Matthew would have been a fucking idiot to not nod along with his coach's threat. As soon as the hand released him, Matthew skated off the ice quickly and headed to the changing rooms.

He then trailed off to his locker, pulling his gloves and helmet off as he did so. His hair was stuck to his face, sweat glistening on his skin. His heart was slowly calming down but the buzz was still there. Nothing made Matthew happier but hockey. And now, because of two guys, even that was slowly being taken away from.

Why the fuck had they turned up? Why both of them? Were they aware of each others' presence? Did they come to taunt him or annoy him? What was the purpose of their actions? What is the meaning of life? Is there life after death? Are we all just mere particles in the greater scheme of things?

And just what exactly was the greatest thing _before_ sliced bread?

Groaning in annoyance as the questions flew across his mind; Matthew opened up his locker and threw his gloves, helmet and hockey stick and puck into his duffle-bag.

"Nice work today boys; keep it up!" their coach demanded, giving them all a sweeping nod before disappearing off to his office. Matthew slowly peeled of his jersey, making sure to fold it properly and made a mental note to wash it later. He perched down onto the bench and began to undress. As he did so, he slowly started to listen in on the conversations around him.

"You know, I reckon we could really win the tournament this year!"

"Yeah, make it a fucking hat-trick!"

"That's football dumbass!"

"Hey, suck my dick!"

The laughter that followed made Matthew smile. It was times like these that made his hectic life worthwhile. Here, he really belonged and hockey was something he was really, really good at. It was something that made him different to his brother. Besides the obvious physical features and cooking abilities.

And that above all else made Matthew happy.

"Anyway, we all know that without Ivan, we'd be fucked during these tournaments!"

"Only because the other teams are fucking scared shitless of him!"

"Yeah, him and that other guy..."

"Who?"

"You know...that other guy...what's-his-name!"

"Oh yeah!"

Now...if only his teammates could remember him, then Matthew's life would actually be sort of perfect. Well, as perfect as his life could get now anyways. Besides the fact that he broke up with his boyfriend, then tormented said ex-boyfriend, 'broke-up' with his friends, got suspended and then as a cherry upon the cake, his relationship with his brother was on the rocks.

Sighing, the Canadian shoved his protective gear into his locker and pulled out his duffel-bag. As he slowly began to redress himself, Matthew couldn't help but wonder why he wasn't more noticeable. After all, Arthur and Lovino had no problems with noticing him. Ah. Well, they had only begun to notice him when Arthur's deranged mind created their revenging schemes. But Alfred noticed him. And Kiku. When he was actually in front of them. Gilbert certainly noticed him, although that only started due to a dare...although Matthew knew that, in all fairness, that it wasn't actually a good thing.

Ivan noticed him. Well, when it was convenient for him anyway. Ditto with his teammates.

Then there was Lars who—

Ah.

Then there was Lars.

Who...pretty much _always_ noticed him. Ever since they first met during the enrolment day of the Academy. Lars was always there to greet him in the morning and hold doors open for him and ensure that he was eating properly and sleeping properly and scared off any potential bullies who mixed Matthew up with Alfred and—oh god. He had to stop thinking about Lars so much. It was honestly beginning to scare him with how his mind would get stuck on the Dutch boy. It would start off innocent and nice, until the bucket load of guilt kicked in and all Matthew could concentrate on was the look on Lars' face when he told him that he didn't love him.

Because, in all honesty, he didn't.

He didn't love Lars. He found him attractive and sweet and nice, but for some reason, Matthew just couldn't find it in himself to fall for him. His stupid heart was still taken by an idiotic albino and his sidekick bird. And Matthew just couldn't see why he was so stuck on Gilbert. Sure, Gilbert was funny and attractive and...lovely in his own brand of loveliness...but he wasn't exactly the World's Greatest Boyfriend.

Which is a title that Lars would own, hands down.

"God. I suck," Matthew muttered, zipping up his jeans and yanking out a thin tee-shirt from his bag. There was obviously something wrong with him if he couldn't find it in himself to just stop loving Gilbert and start loving someone who deserved it. Sighing sadly, Matthew wrinkled his nose as his mind began to torment him with vicious thoughts.

Thoughts that revolved around being lonely, unlovable and invisible. Thoughts that the Canadian hadn't had since he had started dating Gilbert.

Thoughts that should really shut the fuck up.

Shaking his head, Matthew decided to concentrate on listening to the conversations of his teammates, rather than the depressing conversations between himself and his mind. Slinging on his trainers, Matthew ducked down to tie them up, his hearing turned into the voices of the guys around him.

"So, are we going to _Pizza Hut _afterwards?"

Matthew liked _Pizza Hut_. It was ten times better than _McDonald's _and ten times less as greasy. Plus the pepperoni pizza there was to do die for! But Matthew wouldn't dare tell Lovino that, because he knew that the Italian would literally bite his head off if he even dared to _think_ that fast-food pizza was better than authentic, fresh Italian pizza.

"Yeah sure, is your mum driving us? 'Cause she's pretty ho—"

"You talk about my mum one more time and I will kill you where you stand, bitch!"

Snorting softly, Matthew was reminded of his banter with his brother. He was good at bantering; he had a plethora of comebacks at his disposal and even Arthur commented on his wittiness and Arthur was fucking British!

"Come on dickheads, let's go."

"Yeah, don't want to keep his mum waiting~!"

"One more time, you twat. One. More. Time."

They walked straight past him. Didn't even glance at him. Didn't even acknowledge him. They just waltzed straight past, pushing each other and snapping insults back and forth. Matthew watched them leave and just sighed. Every time. Every single fucking time. They always remembered him on the ice when he was important, but as soon as he entered the changing rooms -_boom_- he was a ghost!

Pulling on his hoodie, Matthew slammed his locker shut and hiked his bag over his shoulder. Flipping out his phone, Matthew checked his messages.

_No New Messages_.

Well.

That was a surprise.

Matthew shoved his phone into his pocket and stalked off towards the exit. Glancing up, he paused and gaped in shock.

Ivan was standing in the doorway, smiling sweetly at Matthew with a gleam in his eye. "Are you coming comrade?" he asked sweetly. Matthew blinked with shock that Ivan of all people remembered who he was. Then he remembered that this was the crazy-ass Russian that Alfred dated before Arthur, therefore he knew everything about Alfred and knew everything about everyone who interacted with the American.

"Going where?_ Pizza Hut_?" Matthew asked. Ivan tilted his head and grinned.

"No. My place of course. Katyusha has made some _Yabluchnyk_ for tonight. You are welcome to try some," Ivan said. "Besides, she misses you and I do not like it when my sister is upset. So you should come."

Not knowing whether there was a hidden threat in Ivan's words, Matthew briefly wondered if going along with Ivan would be detrimental to his physical state of health.

Then again, it would be highly dangerous if he _didn't_ go. And it had been some time since he and Katyusha had spoken...and it _would_ piss Alfred off...

Oh _fuck_ it.

"Yeah sure, why not?" Matthew said, smiling.

* * *

><p><strong>Hope Arthur's background history wasn't too cliché...I just wanted to show some elaboration and depth to his brothers' actions. More will be explained later, 'kay? ^_^<strong>

**And now you know what occurred between Lovino and Feliciano~! ^_^**

**Thank you to: **_Honest Reader, ChibitsforHetalia, Uesue, J-swagdon't ask, TigerlilyandHummingbird, Lovely love, That Gigi Person, TheMostWonderfulTimeOfTheYear, RomaniaBitez, nightsong, ChidorixCixBritannia, Lodella, SoulEaterRomanceFan, APH-Indonesia, Mystic Dewdrop, Chibi Russia-Kun, Little Contradictions, DarkerYet, Iceestar, Fantasizedemo97, 0Kurda-Smahlt0, Should sign in, Chelseaj500, Shadowsamatheexorcist, Gilraen Elensar, Just A Girl With A Keyboard, Haluwasa2, JazzyAli, Yume Dust, Laila, DanzQueenB, CurlyWirly, DrinkingAlcoholicRainbows, haganeno56, TABC, natcat5, Glowstick145, Lavender Kiss, blurry19, DisturbingBunnyRabbit, BFTLandMWandSEK, Angel of the Midnight Sea, i heart manga 89, lightwolfheart, Pen Name Is Invalid, HellsTheTwerd, Bookworm24601, ms. nightshade, APH1168kittens, alguien22792, Tailsdoll123_** annnd **_The Awesome of Awesome_**! Your reviews are just so lovely~! ^_^**

**Love City Girl**

**x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x**

**P.S. - I know fuck all about ice hockey. I had to research it like a boss.**


	19. How To Talk Things Through

**First of all, this story is nearly a year old~! On the 21st April I started all of this off~! ^_^**

***Le sigh* It seems only yesterday when I got the concept of this story in my head. I actually thought of this story up whilst thinking up of ways to get back at some bastard who broke my friend's heart. Then I got a LOT of ideas and just shoved them in this story~! ^_^**

**Also, umm...do any of you have tumblr? 'Cause I've made a fanfiction-specific blog on there. It will have links to all of my stories, plus more little extracts from any future stories I might have. If you want to check it out then here: **citygirldreamer. tumblr. com** ^_^**

**Anyways, time for more confrontations!**

**ENJOY!**

* * *

><p><span>Chapter 19 - How To Talk Things Through<span>

Lovino woke up in a bad mood.

He found himself lying on the cold floor of the café and instantly knew that the Korean prick had left him there all night. Wincing, the Italian slowly sat up, cursing as he slammed his head into the table above him. Lovino grasped at his forehead and slowly crawled out from underneath the furniture that attempted to give him brain damage.

"Jesus," he muttered, looking around to see that the café was open but empty. Behind the bar, Yao was watching him with a quirked brow and a bemused smile.

"I was wondering how long it would take you to wake up," Yao stated, cocking his head slightly. "I thought I would have to use the water-spray again."

_Again_?

Lovino gritted his teeth and slowly got to his feet. His entire left side ached in pain and his forehead stung every time he furrowed his brows. He wobbled over to the bar and slammed his hands down with a snarl. "I am going to _kill_ your co-worker!" he threatened, wincing as the pain in his head flared up again.

Yao just smiled and rested his chin in both hands as he leant against the bar. "You can try," he sighed. "God only knows that I've been trying for ages." Yao loved Yong Soo like a little brother; but like all big brothers, the desire to kill someone who never stops being annoying, does get harder to resist sometimes.

The Italian just scowled and turned to leave. "Shame you haven't succeeded," he muttered, leaning against the entrance door. He glanced his shoulder to Yao, his face twisting into a frown. "Would have made my life much fucking easier."

Yao simply sighed and shooed Lovino away with his hand. "It would make everyone's lives easier," he said. "But it would also make everyone's lives boring." The Chinese man was smiling softly as he doodled 'Hello Kitty' faces onto the counter using a chewed up pen. Lovino briefly wanted to call him out on vandalising property but he guessed that, seeing as it was Yao's own property, then it didn't really count.

Plus, he really didn't want to be stuck talking to the Chinese man for any longer than possible. He just wanted to go back to Ludwig's, crawl under the covers of his bed and die a nice peaceful death. So, he settled for a simple one-fingered salute and stalked straight out of the café, ignoring Yao's laughter as he did. He slammed the door shut behind him and started towards the dormitory block where Ludwig lived.

He shoved his hands into the pockets of his jacket and sighed; his strides were long and quick, hoping that the faster he got there then the quicker he could get the inevitable falling out with Feliciano over and done with. A sick feeling of dread coiled up inside his stomach as he crossed the streets. The Academy's campus wasn't that big and the dormitory blocks were all within five minutes of each other with the café being ten minutes away from the Academy's main building.

It took Lovino seven minutes to reach Ludwig's dormitory block.

Each step he took seemed to be accompanied by a vicious thought in his mind. Step. _Feliciano hates me_. Step. _Ludwig is going to kick me out._ Step. _Antonio will never want to see me again. _Step. _I have no friends. _Step. _No one loves me. _Step. _Grandpa is going to send me away to live in a monastery._ Step. _I'm not even a virgin anymore. _Step. _I am going to hell_. Step.

By the time he reached the front door of the dormitory block, Lovino found that his mind was still whirring with paranoid thoughts and emotions that made him feel on edge. With a deep sigh, he pushed open the door and entered the block, making his way over to Ludwig's door. Everything was always so clean and tidy in Ludwig's dormitory and it made Lovino long for his own messy, almost dilapidated, block.

He briefly pondered if he would be let in if he knocked. Biting his lip, Lovino knew that it would be perfectly logical for them to _not_ let him in. Still, the lingering feeling of hurt from the very thought of Feliciano ignoring him grew too much and the Italian decided to at least test the door-knob. He blinked in surprise when he realised that the door had been left unlocked and swung it open.

Cautiously Lovino entered the apartment, slowly closing the door behind him. Lovino frowned as he noticed how quiet everything was. The Italian peered into the living room and frowned when he realised that no one was in there. He padded over to the kitchen and glanced inside it. Lovino froze when he saw Ludwig preparing a simple Italian dish of spaghetti bolognese. The Italian wondered where Feliciano was and winced as he considered how much damage he had caused to their relationship.

God...he sucked as big brother.

"And how long do you plan on standing there for?" Ludwig asked, making Lovino jump with fright. The Italian slunk into the kitchen with a hiss and leant against the wall, furrowing his brows slightly.

"Where's Feli?" he asked, glancing to the side to avoid looking at Ludwig. The German glanced up from the saucepan as he stared at Lovino for a while, wondering if the Italian was asking out of guilt or genuine concern.

"He's asleep. Crying makes him tired," Ludwig stated stoically. Lovino tense up slightly, clenching his eyes shut from the internal pain that Ludwig's words had caused.

"How would you know that?" he gritted out, fists curled up tight. The blond glanced over to him briefly before going back to stirring the saucepan full of bolognese sauce. Lovino couldn't help but notice that Ludwig was using a jar of pre-made sauce and was just mixing it into some minced meat. The Italian scoffed internally; he knew that German was the type to cheat at cooking.

"Because this is not the first time he has cried," Ludwig stated, lifting the spoon to taste the sauce before deciding that it was still too cold. Lovino opened his mouth to accuse Ludwig of hurting his brother but the German cut across him. "To be more specific; this not the first time that _you_ have made him cry."

Lovino's mouth closed with a sharp _clack_. He knew he had made his brother cry before; he always has made Feliciano cry and probably always will. Most of it was unintentional, but yesterday was and...Lovino admitted it, he had crossed a line. To hear it from the damn blond before he could realise it himself, made him feel sick to his stomach.

"S-Shut the hell up," Lovino spat out. "You...you know nothing about me and my brother!"

_My brother and I, Lovino, use proper grammar_, the little voice that sounded like Arthur said in his mind. The Italian shook his head and pinched the bridge of his nose, glaring at the German before him. Ludwig turned the heat up on the stove and started to stir the pasta that lay in the saucepan of bubbling hot water.

"I know enough Lovino," Ludwig replied calmly. Lovino scoffed and crossed his arms tightly.

"Oh? Then tell me, what the _hell_ do you know?" he asked, honey-coloured eyes flashing as he glanced over to the saucepan that started to bubble over with water. Ludwig quickly turned the heat down and started to stir it gently. The German waited until the water had calmed down before answering Lovino's question.

"I know," he started, frowning slightly, "that you're the only one who can hurt Feliciano emotionally. I know that you're the only one who he considers to be his best friend. I know that he loves you and trusts you. Even more than me. I also know that if you hurt him, then I will kick you out and leave you with nothing to fend for yourself with. However...I also know that he forgives you for every little thing that you do wrong, so who am I to decide what to do with you?"

Lovino furrowed his brows and shook his head. "Whatever," he muttered, flushing at how much Ludwig really did know. "So how badly did I...make him cry?" he asked, wondering if he even wanted to know the damn answer. Ludwig glanced over to him briefly, before getting out a colander to drain the pasta.

"Bad enough to make him pass out," Ludwig answered coldly. He walked over to the sink, the saucepan of pasta in one hand and the colander in the other, and gently poured the pasta into the colander. A billowing cloud of steam flew into the air and Lovino watched it disappear with disinterest. He was more concerned with how badly he had hurt his brother this time round.

Privately, he swore to never do it again.

"Why?" Lovino asked, the question leaving his lips before he even had time to think about it.

Ludwig placed the saucepan down and turned to face the Italian, a faint wrinkle visible between his eyebrows.

"Because his brother announced a deep and hidden secret of his to the world," the German stated. "A secret that he had hoped would never get out. It hurt him to know that you had found it out, because he knew how much it would upset you."

Lovino frowned at his words. "Upset me? It damn well humiliated me!" he snapped fiercely. "How the hell would you like it if you found out that _Gilbert_ had asked out Feliciano? Wouldn't you be embarrassed as well?"

Ludwig sighed as he poured the drained pasta back into the saucepan. "He _has_ asked out Feliciano," he stated, walking back to the hob and placing the saucepan down next to the one holding the simmering bolognese sauce. "And the only reason I got embarrassed was due to the fact that my brother was incredibly drunk and had asked your brother out because he thought that Feliciano resembled Elizaveta somewhat. Understand?"

Blinking, Lovino allowed his arms to fall down to his sides and sighed. "Your brother is an idiot," he said, averting his eyes away from Ludwig's stern glare. "He is. Anyone who mistakes Feliciano for a girl is an idiot and deserves to have their eyes removed for being so damn blind."

"Right," Ludwig stated, turning the heat up slightly to allow the bolognese sauce to boil. Lovino watched him, criticising his every move; from the way that Ludwig stirred the sauce, to the way he held himself as he cooked.

Lovino wrinkled his nose. There was one last question he wanted to ask, but he wondered if it was worth being around Ludwig for any longer than normal. Fumbling his fingers and biting his lip, Lovino swallowed his hatred for Ludwig and decided to cut his losses and ask the damn bastard anyway.

"What did you do afterwards?" he asked, his voice steady and calm, despite the inner volcano of anger simmering beneath the surface.

Ludwig glanced fleetingly over to him, before returning his attention to the boiling bolognese sauce. "We talked. Or I talked. Feliciano just cried." He shifted uncomfortably; Ludwig had always been bad with emotions and comforting people when they were sad. It made him feel awkward and useless. Having Gilbert for an older brother didn't make matters any easier.

"He never stopped crying? I thought you could make things better! Unless...did you _dump_ him because of it? Because if you did, you damn bastard, I will—" Lovino started to spit out, honey eyes narrow with hatred and teeth bared in anger.

"I forgave him," Ludwig interrupted him, holding up a hand and staring at him sternly. "He had been crying with happiness because I forgave him. Not that I _needed_ to forgive him. What he did was in the past and therefore, none of my business. I do not care if Feliciano has been with other men before me. I do not care if he has been with women either. And I most certainly do not give a damn, if he had asked anyone out before me. Because he is with me now and that is all that counts."

Lovino swallowed hard. Ludwig's tone had been clear and honest. He had meant every word he had said. The Italian didn't know why that fact made him feel even worse than it should. After all, he had come to the conclusion that the only reason he had even revealed Feliciano's secret in the first place, was to hurt his brother's relationship with Ludwig. It was an action done out of hurt and anger. An action that he hadn't even thought through properly.

"Why?" Lovino asked, frowning deeply as he stared at the German. Ludwig sighed and reached over for a pot of basil.

"Because I love your brother," he said, sprinkling the herb over the bolognese sauce, mixing it in with a wooden spoon. His face was slightly flushed from admitting such a thing out loud. Lovino wrinkled his nose; the German was using too much basil. "And because his past is his past. Not mine. It's none of my business and it isn't a part of our relationship. So, why should I let it ruin our relationship?"

The Italian scowled. "You're drowning the sauce with basil, idiot! But what if he's just using you for a damn rebound? Doesn't that thought piss you off?" he asked, smirking slightly when he saw Ludwig take his advice and put the basil down. The German continued to stir the sauce, his blue eyes lidded with thought.

"Is that what you honestly think about Feliciano?" he asked, quirking a brow. "That he is the type to _use_ people for his own wishes?"

Lovino hissed. "No! Don't twist my words! Damn bastard, you know that that's not what I meant," he said, snarling slightly. Ludwig turned the heat down on the sauce, reaching over for a salt shaker and lightly sprinkling some salt into the bolognese.

"If that isn't what you meant, then don't word it as such," Ludwig stated. Lovino opened his mouth to retort, but Ludwig shot him a sharp glare to shut him up. Lovino lips curled up in distaste. "Now it's my turn to ask a question: why did you even tell me Feliciano's secret? Did you want to hurt him? Is that it?" he asked, quirking a brow.

Lovino shrugged and turned away. "I was pissed. People say stupid stuff when they're pissed off without any reason," he muttered.

Ludwig hummed thoughtfully, turning the hob off completely. "Even stupid Spaniards?" he asked lightly as he started to spoon the bolognese onto the pasta. "Because I highly doubt that Antonio would say such things to you when he is not angry. In fact, I highly doubt that Antonio would even think about saying horrible things to you when he isn't angry. He said that to hurt you, just like you wanted to hurt Feliciano by revealing his secret," He started to mix the pasta and the bolognese together; the gorgeous smell made Lovino relax. It also made him hungry.

The Italian scoffed. "That's different!" he spat. "I didn't mean to tell you Feliciano's damn secret! I was pissed off. Antonio...he was probably telling me the truth and that's probably how he felt for a long time!"

The German reached for bowl in a cupboard above his head, picking one that had cats playing with each other in a field. "Everyone may tell the truth when they're angry, but not everyone. If I am going to be honest with you, then I believe that Antonio was just saying 'stupid stuff' to hurt you. Just like you said 'stupid stuff' to hurt Feliciano. Now, I'm assuming you want Feliciano to forgive you, yes?"

"Duh," Lovino uttered, rolling his eyes. Ludwig just sighed and took Lovino's attitude in stride. He started to spoon the pasta into the bowl, making sure not to spill any or to make a mess of it.

"So why can't you forgive Antonio for committing the same 'crime'?" the tall blond asked. Lovino blinked, sensing some logic in Ludwig's words. He watched silently as the German placed the bowl onto a tray that already had a glass of apple juice on it along with a small bar of white chocolate. The German knew his brother so well; it genuinely unnerved him.

Ludwig collected the saucepans, spoons and the colander and placed them all into his dishwasher. He was lucky enough to have one in his apartment and Lovino tasted the sharp tinge of envy when Ludwig closed it and turned it on. The German then wiped down all of the surfaces, taking extra special care to remove any and all stains left behind from the sauce.

"Why are you taking so long? Isn't Feliciano's pasta going to go cold?" Lovino asked, arching a brow. Ludwig threw the cloth into the sink and then washed his hands.

"I would much rather take Feliciano a bowl of cold pasta, than a bowl of hot pasta and watch as he burns his tongue," the German replied, shrugging slightly.

Lovino just scowled. His brother wasn't that stupid; or maybe Ludwig was just too motherly for his own good. The blond did seem to spend a lot of time making sure that Feliciano didn't slack off or get hurt. It made Lovino almost ache for Antonio.

Antonio...

The Italian watched Ludwig gather up the tray in his hands, taking care to not spill anything.

"It's different," Lovino called out, just as Ludwig was about to leave the kitchen.

Ludwig paused and turned to glance at him. He observed him silently, blue eyes narrow and intense. "Whether it's different or not, it would still be best for everyone involved if you just spoke to him, right?" he said, and left the kitchen to return to a sleeping Feliciano. Lovino watched him leave and sighed, running a hand through his hair.

"Right," he murmured to himself.

X-x-X-x-X

Matthew woke up with a yawn as he stretched up and popped a few bones slightly.

Rubbing his eyes clear, the Canadian realised that the apartment he was in didn't belong to Kiku. The Japanese boy had a very tidy apartment but it was also filled with Alfred's junk and the odd trinkets and pictures from Kiku's home in Japan. The apartment he was in now had none of that. It was smaller for one and had pictures of sunflowers dotted about the walls. Spotting the Russian flag above the TV, Matthew breathed a sigh of relief as he realised that he had slept over at Ivan's last night and not some random person's apartment, where the possibility of having his virginity taken away was quite high.

He swung his legs over the side of the sofa and pushed the blanket off. He paused and glanced over to it. It was warm and made of soft cashmere, but it had sunflowers sewn into it at random places. He recognised it as Katyusha's work and decided to pull the blanket around tighter his body. He stood up and glanced around, hearing soft noises coming from the room adjacent to the one he was in now.

Padding across the room, he entered what he found to be the kitchen and smiled softly. Katyusha was in there already, setting the table whilst pinning back Natalia's hair so her fringe didn't sweep into her eyes. Matthew smiled and coughed lightly, making his presence known. Katyusha jumped at the noise but smiled warmly. Her sister on the other hand, sighed and looked the other way.

"So you're the boy that brother brought home," she muttered with a small scowl, eyeing the blanket around his shoulders. "Who are you and what makes you so special to be here?"

Matthew blinked. Katyusha shook her head and tapped Natalia on the head gently. "Go and wake Ivan. Knock first though! You remember what happened last time?" she questioned, arching a brow with a smile. Natalia just huffed and shrugged casually, before striding out of the room without a second glance at Matthew.

The Canadian just furrowed his brows. "She seems...nice?" he said, biting his lip as he took the blanket off and folded it up neatly. He placed it on the side and returned his attention to woman before him.

Katyusha just hummed with amusement. "Natalia is not a morning-person. Or a people-person to be honest. She'd rather have the company of her family than the company of friends. I think she just feels more...comfortable being around people that she can trust openly," she explained, her tone soft and her expression softer.

Matthew nodded, understanding how Natalia felt. "So, what did happen last time she woke Ivan up?" he asked, quirking a brow and smirking slightly. He could sense a humorous story between the lines of Katyusha's words, but the woman just shook her head and smiled.

"I am afraid I have been sworn to secrecy. But let me just tell you that the last time Natalia tried to wake Ivan up, he was already awake. And in the shower," Katyusha said. Matthew furrowed his brows, wondering why that could be so troublesome. Katyusha sensed this and almost smirked. "The bathroom door was wide open. Apparently he had forgotten that his younger sister still lived with him."

"Oh. God," Matthew choked. He could remember walking in on Alfred once, whilst his brother was naked. He felt like bleaching his eyes for days after that. He almost did too until Arthur managed to beat some sense into his older brother. Apparently Alfred had forgotten that it wasn't normal to walk around naked whilst there were guests at his apartment.

"Yes well," Katyusha said, her eyes bright with mirth, "it was a mistake that neither of them have forgotten and won't forget for quite some time."

Matthew just smirked and sat down, opening his mouth to ask another question when a voice cut across him.

"What won't we forget for quite some time?" Matthew turned around and saw Ivan, already dressed and groomed, entering the kitchen with Natalia trailing behind him. The younger girl caught Matthew looking at her and frowned haughtily.

Katyusha just shook her head and smiled. "Nothing of importance," she remarked. "Sit down, I'll get breakfast ready. Is toast alright for you Matthew? I'm afraid it's all we have until I go shopping again later," she asked. Matthew just shook his head.

"Toast is fine," he said.

"Alright then," Katyusha smiled. "Sit down you two, it will only take a while." She nodded to Ivan and Natalia before turning to pop some bread into the toaster.

The Canadian watched as Katyusha started to make them breakfast. Ivan sat down next to him with Natalia sitting opposite. Natalia was one of the prettiest girls Matthew had ever seen, but it was an opinion that had gotten many boys into hospital due to an overprotective Ivan. Matthew wondered if, being Ivan's teammate and all, he too would get knocked out for saying that Natalia was beautiful.

Then again, Ivan might not need to. Natalia looked like the kind of girl who would knock him out personally.

"So when is the next hockey match Matthew? Ivan won't tell me," Katyusha asked, her soft voice light and cheery as she took out some butter and jam. She never really liked silence and enjoyed learning more things about her secretive siblings. Matthew quirked a brow and glanced over to Ivan.

"It's next month; why wouldn't you tell her when the match is?" the Canadian asked. Ivan's expression turned dark for a second.

"There are too many boys there," he said, his eyes hooded and clouded over. "Boys that could hurt my sisters."

Matthew blinked and the toaster popped. "Oh. But...they can take care of themselves, right? I mean, they're perfectly fine when they come and watch during hockey practice," he asked, directing his question to the two sisters before him. Katyusha just smiled sadly and started to butter the toast she had made. Natalia scoffed and crossed her arms.

"I can take care of myself! I can take care of my entire family," she declared, eyes narrow and gleaming stubbornly. "Even my brother, right Ivan?"

Ivan paled slightly as memories of his little sister 'protecting' him rose to the surface of his mind. "Natalia, I can take care of myself, you know that," he said firmly.

Natalia sniffed derisively. "And I can take care of myself and Katyusha! So we are going! I'll even take my knife, just in case," she said, her eyes gleaming slightly. Katyusha sighed and shook her head. Matthew blinked whilst Ivan just smiled, humouring his little sister. The Canadian furrowed his brows at their reactions; he had heard her correct, right? She did mention something about a 'knife' right?

"Ah, but they check you for weapons at our matches, surely you remember," Ivan said, cocking his head slightly. Natalia just wrinkled her nose.

"I can hide my weapons well! Remember where I hid it last time you needed protecting? When I got that American boy to leave you alone?" she asked, her words causing Matthew to choke on the very air he was breathing.

"Y-You! You were the one who nearly cut his hand off last year!" the Canadian gasped. "He needed five stitches in each wrist. The doctor thought he was suicidal because of it," he said, remembering how much of a fuss Arthur had caused and how pissed off Alfred had been. His brother had never told him who did it, so Matthew had always assumed that it had been Ivan. _Well_, Matthew thought, _how wrong I was_.

Natalia frowned slightly and wriggled in her seat in discomfort. "I did apologise," she muttered, tracing circles on the table with her finger. Katyusha tutted at her, placing a plate of toast in the middle of the table, along with a jug of fresh orange juice.

"Only because I told you to," the older sister said, nudging Natalia slightly. Matthew smiled slightly at the dynamics of the family. Katyusha, who was so very motherly and kind; Ivan and Natalia, who were as fiercely protective as each other. It was a sweet image, but it made him long for his family. His lovely mother, his estranged dad, even his stupid brother...

"He deserved it though!" Natalia protested, taking a piece of toast and nibbling at the crusts.

Matthew smirked. "This was...when he dumped you, wasn't it?" he asked Ivan. The Russian nodded slightly and shrugged.

"I did not mind though. We were never...together in the traditional sense anyway," he said, sipping at his glass of orange juice. Matthew cocked his head. Alfred never really gave him many details about his relationship with Ivan, except that it wasn't even a relationship and they were only doing it for the sex. The Canadian had entertained the thought that perhaps Ivan was a rebound for Alfred, after getting dumped by Arthur...but he never spoke the thought out loud. Just in case.

"It's a shame. He was so lovely to me," Katyusha sighed, cutting her toast up into triangles. Matthew smiled and poured some orange juice into his own glass.

"That's because he recognised you as being one of my friends," he said around large gulps of juice. "I would have killed him if he had been horrid to you."

"As would have I," Ivan added darkly. Katyusha laughed and shook her head, waving off her brother's protective nature.

"As mentioned before, I am a grown woman. I can take care of myself," she said. "It's you, Ivan, who I worry about. Getting hurt all the time on that ice. It's why I will most definitely be going to that hockey match. I need to look out for my younger brother." Her voice was soft and calm, but Matthew could see a light in her eye that hid a strong, determined young woman.

Ivan hummed. "I think I inflict more hurt than receive it on the ice, to be honest. I don't think I have ever gotten hurt during hockey actually," he mused, furrowing his brows in thought. Matthew smirked and swallowed down a piece of toast.

"Oh really? Because I seem to recall a certain event involving you, me, my hockey stick and three pucks last year at the finals," the Canadian said mischievously. Ivan's smile turned cold as he faced Matthew.

"Comrade, I do believe that is an incident that no one speaks of for a reason," the Russian said, his tone cold and his expression colder as he twirled a knife covered in strawberry jam around his fingers. Matthew chuckled nervously as he watched the knife spin and decided that it would be best if he just went straight back to eating his toast and shutting up.

"R-Right," he stammered, feeling Natalia's intense gaze on him.

"What did he do—" she began to ask, her eyes wide and curious.

"_Nothing_!" Ivan and Matthew interrupted hurriedly in unison. Katyusha laughed brightly, adoring how much life there was in her kitchen that morning. She couldn't remember the last time her kitchen had been so full of energy and happiness. And she had missed Matthew as well; he had always been so lovely to her and had never treated her like she was just another body to grope.

She finished off her toast and brushed her hands together to rid herself of any lingering crumbs. "I'm going to finish my shopping list. Is there anything specific that you need?" she asked her siblings. Both shook their heads. "Very well then, I'll see you soon Matthew. Behave you two," Katyusha smiled teasingly and placed her plate into the sink, before leaving the kitchen with a slight skip in her step.

Natalia watched her leave. She had never seen her sister look so happy before and so early in the morning too. She eyed the little Canadian before her and sniffed. Matthew made Ivan happy as well. Well, he almost made him happy; there was something about that incident they spoke of that made her feel quite...suspicious.

She dropped the rest of toast and her knife with a clatter before standing up. "I have to leave as well. I have a date with Toris that I can't miss. Apparently," she said, taking her plate and dropping the leftover toast in the bin before putting the plate and knife in the sink. Ivan watched her, his face flashing dark for a second.

"Toris? My Toris?" he asked, arching his brow slightly. Toris Laurinaitis had been his first boyfriend and probably his last one too. Alfred couldn't really be considered 'boyfriend' material as they had never really gone out...not in the traditional sense of the term anyway. Toris however, had been a real boyfriend. They even had the whole 'awkward dates' and 'flowers that Toris was actually allergic to' and 'out of date chocolates' romance thing going on.

It was only until a few months later that Toris discovered that he had fallen in love with Natalia; Ivan had been slightly hurt when Toris ended the relationship, but decided that if Natalia wanted to have a boyfriend, then who better than someone that Ivan knew personally. Toris had been a good boyfriend to him so Ivan knew that he would treat Natalia well too.

However, that had been five years ago. Ivan was sure that Natalia would never give Toris a chance and somehow, this had made him feel slightly better over getting dumped. Now...now he just felt strange about the whole ordeal.

"He used to be 'your Toris'. He's...my Toris now, I guess," Natalia replied, feeling quite uncomfortable in saying such things.

Ivan's eyes were clouded over with some indescribable emotion. "Yes. He is...good. So treat him well. If he hurts you, let me know," he said, furrowing his brows slightly. Matthew reckoned that it should be _Toris_ that he should be more concerned about. Having Natalia for a girlfriend must physically _hurt_!

Natalia just shrugged. "I can handle myself," she replied, eyes glinting slightly. "I can handle myself just fine. If he hurts me then I will pay him back tenfold."

Matthew really didn't like how evil she looked then. And not just her face, even her words seemed to drip venom. And where the hell did she get that _knife_ from?

"I know," Ivan said, his face changing instantly. He seemed proud of the fact that Natalia could take care of herself as his eyes brightened up with joy and his smile seemed actually genuine. Matthew stayed quiet, chewing over the last piece of toast in his mouth.

"Also," Natalia said, then turning to the Canadian himself. "I don't know who you are exactly, but you make my brother and sister happy. I don't know why and I don't care either. But if you hurt my brother or my sister, I will cut out your major organs and feed them to you. Understand?"

Matthew blinked, his face draining itself of colour as his eyes widened with fear. "Y-Yes ma'am!" he said quickly, nodding for emphasis. Natalia turned her nose up and strode out the room, twirling her knife around her fingers as she did so.

Matthew breathed a sigh of relief and almost deflated in his chair. Ivan watched him and laughed, taking his plate along with Matthew's and walked over to drop them in the sink. He would clean them up later but right now, Matthew needed to spill his story.

"So, my sisters are gone and no one else is here," Ivan said, leaning against the sink. "Would you be willing to tell me your story now?"

The Canadian glanced up. He had promised to tell Ivan what had happened. He wondered if telling Ivan would be a bad thing, but then again, practically everyone else in the Academy, so what would one more person knowing do? After all, it couldn't hurt just to unload his messy problems onto just one more person, right?

Right.

"A-Ah, sure. Um, okay," Matthew stammered, biting his lip and wondering where to start. "Well, do you know why I dumped Gilbert?" he asked.

Ivan shook his head. "Please tell me the story, it sounds like fun," he said, smile bright and sharp. Matthew swallowed hard and nodded, shifting in his chair slightly.

"R-Right. Well, Gilbert...he only asked me out due to a dare, but I figured that he would eventually like me as a person and he did! He really did, he actually liked me enough to carry on dating me. But...that's what he said. What he did told me a different story. Whenever we went out, he would do his thing and I would just watch in the background. If we went clubbing, then he would go dance and flirt with people who were more fun than me. Then there's the whole thing where, if we did go out, then it was only because his friends weren't there to entertain him! I was just...a replacement, I guess," Matthew said, using his hands to explain his story as well as his words.

Ivan snorted. "He is an idiot. I am glad I broke him when I did," he remarked, crossing his arms and smiling eerily.

"Y-Yeah, about that..." Matthew trailed off. "Well, as it turns out, Arthur and Lovino broke up with their boyfriends and then we sort of just came together and decided to get revenge on them. The first one we thought up of was this whole 'slip Viagra into their drinks' thing. That's why Gilbert popped one when he was fighting you. Yong Soo helped me slip some Viagra jelly into his milkshake before you turned up."

Ivan blinked and then started to chuckle. "That _was_ fun!" he said with delight. "You should do it again sometime!"

Matthew laughed nervously and inched away from Ivan in his chair. "M-Maybe. Anyway, we did a lot of other stuff to them, like writing nasty things on their clothes and replacing their shampoo with hair-dye...then we screwed up really badly and tied them naked to the flagpole. We stuck post-it notes on them using glue and wrote horrible things on them. Then we got suspended and here I am."

The Canadian rushed through his story even quicker than when he had told Lars what he had done. Ivan frowned and narrowed his eyes, sensing that there was something that Matthew wasn't telling him. The Russian hummed and walked up to Matthew, looming over him slightly.

"I think there is something else you have done, right?" he said. "What is it?"

Matthew bit his lip. Ivan would probably think horribly of him but..."I used this boy who...who really likes me in order to get Gilbert jealous," he muttered miserably.

Ivan blinked and stepped back. "Oh? Did it get him jealous?" he asked lightly. Matthew snorted.

"Of course it did. He was furious!" he said, wrinkling his nose slightly. Ivan hummed and tapped him on the head.

"Then why are you so upset?" he asked. Matthew rolled his eyes and stood up, leaving the kitchen to find his duffel bag.

"Because that person really likes me and I just hurt him. I am a horrible person," Matthew muttered. Ivan followed him and smiled.

"Well of course you are! But I don't understand. Why don't you just forget about that person? You don't like him back so forget him," Ivan said brightly. Matthew moaned and shook his head.

"I can't," he murmured, finding his bag underneath the coffee table. Ivan furrowed his brows and cocked his head.

"Well, why not?" he asked, persistently nudging Matthew until the Canadian broke down and told him everything.

"Because I can't! I can't just..._forget_ about someone like that!" Matthew said heatedly, dragging his bag from under the table and checking to see if everything was in there. Ivan glanced over his shoulder and saw that his sisters were still oblivious to their conversation.

"Well I can! Why can't you though?" Ivan asked, his violet eyes wide and curious. Matthew sighed and hunched over defensively.

"Because I think...I might...like him...too," he said slowly, eyes hooded with sadness and mind raging with thoughts. "And it's just giving me headache to think like that because I know that I still love Gilbert!" Matthew ignored Ivan's expression of disgust as he admitted his love for Gilbert Beilschmidt. "And I saw both of them watching me during hockey practice and now I don't know what to do!"

Ivan hummed thoughtfully and then beamed. "Gilbert is disgusting. You should pick the other boy," he said brightly. Matthew blinked and then groaned. He should have known better than to ask the advice of someone who famously hated the albino boy.

"Never mind, forget it," he muttered, zipping his duffel bag up after he noticed that everything was in there, safe and sound. Ivan shook his head and frowned.

"No, I mean it. You can't have liked Gilbert all that much if you've easily fallen for another boy. Pick the other boy. You wouldn't have liked him in the first place if your feelings for Gilbert truly were..._love_," Ivan stated, wrinkling his nose in disgust at the mere thought of something _loving_ the albino bastard.

Matthew blinked at him and then sighed. "I guess you have a point," he murmured, glancing down at the floor. Ivan grinned brightly.

"Of course I do," he replied. Matthew looked up at him with a grateful smile.

"Thanks Ivan," he said, then heaved his duffel bag up and over his shoulder. "Anyway, I should...get going. My brother is probably freaking out by now. Tell Katyusha that I said 'thanks' for the breakfast and that I'll talk to her soon."

Ivan nodded. "Of course you will, otherwise you will make her upset and me angry. Just remember one thing: if you ever need help 'punishing' Gilbert, just let me know. It would be a pleasure to assist you."

Matthew blinked, walking over to the front door and opening it with a nervous smile. "I don't doubt that for a second. See you later."

X-x-X-x-X

Arthur woke up with a wince, feeling the sharp edges of roofing-tiles dig into his back.

He had heard Andrew and Seamus return last night and his heart had frozen with terror as he overheard them questioning Cade's tears. He knew that Cade would never try and blame him, but he also knew that Andrew and Seamus weren't stupid. Arthur had bitten his lip and had taken refuge on the roof, hoping that neither of them would look for him up there. Fortunately, neither of them had actually gone to his room but Arthur still didn't trust them and fell asleep on the roof.

Now, he regretted his decision as his back ached and his body felt numb.

Slowly, he sat up and winced at the sharp light of the morning sun. Rubbing his eyes, Arthur stretched out and moaned as his aching body cracked and popped. He wished he had brought a blanket up. Whenever he had crept out onto the roof when he was younger, he always remembered to bring a blanket with him. Then he would wake up and find himself with two blankets, but he never really gave it much thought.

He just wished that he had at least brought a pillow or something. Even a unicorn toy would have made things a little better for him, instead of having nothing but the sharp tiles beneath him and the cold, unforgiving autumn air around him. Arthur rubbed his numb arms roughly, trying to get some heat and life back into them. His legs felt heavy and he knew that he was in for a nasty cold over the next few weeks.

The blond considered going back into his room where warmth and a duvet awaited him. Then again, so did starvation and three brothers who didn't like him very much. Well, two brothers who didn't like him and one brother who he had successfully upset. Arthur sighed and started to shift down from the flat part of the roof, down to where it sloped near his room. He had done this countless times and knew how to get up and down without falling two stories.

However as he slowly crawled down the slope, Arthur noticed the rising smoke that came from his bedroom window. Eyes widening with shock and fear, he quickly shuffled back up the slope and onto the flat surface once more. He held his breath and glanced out to street before him. The village they lived in was nice and simple, but it was always quiet and it unnerved Arthur to no end.

Especially when considering how noisy his brothers were; it made him wonder how no one would ever complain about the racket they would cause sometimes.

Arthur guessed that the village was as scared of his brothers as he sometimes was.

"You coming down from there soon?" a lazy voice drawled up to him suddenly. Arthur froze and tightly hugged his legs to his chest, hoping that if Andrew couldn't see him or hear him then his older brother would just leave. "Hey. I know you're there. You're not that fucking sneaky, you dumb shit."

Oh.

"What do you want?" Arthur asked, keeping his body curled up and tight. He watched the slow rise of smoke before him and wrinkled his nose. He hated it when Andrew smoked in his room. The place would always be left stinking of cigarette fumes. Arthur himself, had once experimented with cigarettes when he was younger, until Alfred literally smacked the habit out of him.

Wincing as he remembered the American boy, Arthur turned his attention back to his brother.

"Why did you make Cade cry?" Andrew asked. His tone was hard to decipher without seeing the expression that accompanied it. Arthur dug his nails into his legs, wondering if Andrew was angry enough to try and climb onto the roof to get him. He did, then Arthur was screwed. Their house was detached and their neighbours didn't exactly live within jumping distance.

"I didn't _make_ him cry," Arthur replied, inching away from the edge and further away from Andrew himself. The blond could see the smoke slowly come to a stop and knew that if he did climb down, a singing cigarette butt would be there to greet him on the windowsill.

"Oh? Then I suppose he was just casually leaking water from his fucking eyes then, eh?" Andrew asked mockingly. Arthur swallowed. He could hear the tinge of fury in Andrew's words and felt his heart come to a stuttering stop.

"I didn't make him cry! He just started...doing it," Arthur said, fumbling with his words as he tried to convince Andrew that he was innocent. "I didn't mean for him to cry; I didn't purposefully hurt him just for shits and giggles, you know!"

"You don't mean to do a lot around here, do you?" Andrew called out. "But you still manage to fuck everything up anyway."

Arthur glared down at the smoke as it rose. "You know, Cade told me a couple of interesting things," he said, ending the argument before it even started. He decided that it was hopeless to argue against Andrew; he was just too stubborn and dangerous to argue against. Instead, Arthur chose to switch the subject. Last night, Cade had told him some interesting things (_lieslieslies_) and Arthur knew that if he didn't ask Andrew now about it, then it would forever be niggling away at him at the back of his mind.

He needed to know what the truth was.

Andrew hadn't responded to him, so Arthur decided to carry on. "L-Last night...Cade told me that...when I left, you got upset. T-That Seamus even cried. It's bullshit, of course but I just couldn't help but...ask." Silence. "So, um, is it true? Did you, ah, miss me at all? When I left, that is?" More silence. "R-Right. Um...also, he said that you bought me...C-Cupcake, you know, my first stuffed unicorn toy. I remember it coming from_ Hamley's_ which is a hell of an expensive toy-store, so it couldn't have been you, right? After all, you hate me, right? You...who uses me as an ashtray, who kills rabbits in front of me and sees me as a personal punching-bag. It's all crap, right?"

Silence.

Arthur fidgeted on the roof, biting his lip apart and scraping his nails down the roofing tiles from anxiety. The smoke still rose, but it was coming out faster and thicker, as if Andrew was consistently puffing away without pausing for a break. Arthur wondered if he had been wrong. If Cade had been lying to him. He flushed with mortification and froze with terror; Cade had been lying to him and he had just made a complete arse out of himself in front of bloody Andrew.

He had been an utter gullible idiot to believe in such bullshit.

"S-Sorry!" Arthur uttered instantly. "Forget I said any of that!" He tried to take back the last five minutes, but Arthur knew that it was all in vain.

The smoke paused for a second and Arthur held his breath as Andrew began to speak.

"You ever," he started, slowly and venomously, "utter such crap to me again and I'll cut out your tongue."

Arthur felt his heart drop out of his stomach. He exhaled the air he had been holding in and felt sick and cold and empty.

"I said I was sorry," he muttered, green eyes clenching shut to prevent any angry tears from leaking. "But Cade was the one to tell me all that!"

Andrew snorted. "Don't be such an arse. As if Cade would say such stupid shit! He's not fucking retarded like you. He's not a fucking liar like you."

"I'm not lying!" Arthur snapped suddenly, tightly curling up his fists until his nails broke the skin on his palms. He winced at the pain, but didn't relax his muscles.

"Yeah, you are. Why don't you come down here and let me show you what fucking happens to dirty little liars! Here's a hint; my knife and your filthy tongue," Andrew hissed out, his tone was cold and froze Arthur from the inside out. The blond Brit shivered and glared hatefully at the streets below him.

"If you do that then dad will be pissed!" Arthur snapped back, eyes burning with angry tears. He scrubbed at them roughly, hating how sensitive he had become during the past few days. "When he comes back from his mission, he will make you sorry!" he threatened, feeling desperate for anything that would get Andrew to leave him alone. Usually, the threat of their dad coming back was enough to make Andrew back off.

But that was back in the days of being children, when parents were scary and children obeyed them. Andrew was a lot older now and Arthur knew that he was just clutching at straws to get Andrew to stop.

"'Mission'?" Andrew questioned, his voice full of mocking mirth. "You think dad is on some fucking 'mission'?" The laughter that followed made Arthur's ears burn with embarrassment. Andrew's words reminded him of Cade's questioning tone when he questioned Arthur's belief that their dad was in the SAS.

Suddenly, Arthur felt very unsure of himself. "Y-Yes. He's in the SAS, of course he's on a fucking mission!" Arthur was aware of how desperate his tone had become and how messed up his mind was getting. Memories of his dad leaving spontaneously arose in his mind. The man always left in a suit; Armani, to be specific. Cade would hold Arthur back, Seamus would disappear and Andrew would always be scowling. Then their dad would come back, healthy and happy and wearing the same suit as before. Arthur could remember how there was always something different about his dad when he came back.

He always looked...jumpy. Guilty. And Andrew always looked at him with disgust, always poking at the bruises on their dad's neck, always making cruel comments about where their dad has been. Arthur had thought that Andrew was just being nasty; that his behaviour was just him lashing out at their last parental figure, the one who always kept leaving them.

Now he was older, Arthur could see that there was something...off about his dad's disappearances. There was something wrong.

Arthur dearly hoped that he was incorrect about his conclusions.

"S-A-fucking S? Don't be so bloody soft!" Andrew's scoffing voice echoed around him. "On a mission! Yeah sure, he's on a mission, you little retard. A mission that involves a cruise-ship and some leggy blond bint that he's been shagging for ten years!"

Something froze in Arthur's heart then. His mind went blank and his voice caught in his throat. His dad, the person that held him during nightmares, the person that kissed him goodbye and then welcomed him with the same greeting. His dad. The person who had tried to protect him against everything Andrew did to him. The first person to ever say 'I love you' to him.

His dad. Who was supposed to be in the SAS. Who _told_ him that he was in the SAS. Doing special missions for the Queen. Protecting his country and the people in it.

All of it...

Lies?

Was all of it just...lies?

"Lying..." Arthur whispered brokenly, his voice cracking slightly.

Smoke began rising up in the air again. Andrew was smoking again. "What did you say to me?" he asked sharply. Arthur clutched at his head, thoughts revolving around his mind, hurting him and tormenting him. The blond Brit choked on a sob and bitterly glared up at the sky.

"You're lying," he gritted out. The smoke paused for a second; Andrew was mulling over Arthur's words before a low foreboding laugh echoed out of Arthur's room. The smoke returned. Arthur's body froze with the sound of laughter, feeling a mortified blush creep up his neck. "Don't laugh at me!" he snapped, slamming his fists down on the roof and wincing when the tiles sliced his hands.

"Then don't say such stupid fucking things!" Andrew hissed back. "Calling me a damn liar. Who the hell do you think you are?" His words came out fast and harsh, cutting deeper into Arthur than the roofing-tiles he was sat upon. The Brit uncurled his body, letting himself go lax as miserable tears trickled down his face.

"Arthur fucking Kirkland," he muttered brokenly. "And I'm not saying stupid things! You're saying stupid things about our dad! He would never lie to me! He would never...just leave his family for some floozy! And he _is_ in the SAS! He fucking _told_ me!"

"That twat is no dad of mine, you little shit!" Andrew growled. He stepped up onto the windowsill and hoisted himself out and almost onto the roof. Arthur gasped and scrambled away as the form of his brother appeared before him. Andrew's eyes were sharp and narrow, his mouth curled up into a snarl around the cigarette he was smoking. The blond Brit folded his legs to his chest once more in an effort to keep all body parts away from Andrew.

"He...he is. He is your dad! He's our dad," Arthur snapped back at him, desperately trying to get away from Andrew, but also trying hard to not fall off the roof. The red-head however didn't move. He stayed where he was, leaning against the roof with one hand curled around the drainpipe and the other propped up to pluck the cigarette out of his mouth every few seconds. Arthur wondered where he had learnt such balance.

He also, in the darker parts of his psyche, wondered what would happen if he would just..._push_.

Push Andrew off the roof. Push Andrew out of his life. Push Andrew away, forever and ever.

Arthur winced as he entertained such dark thoughts, biting his lip and clenching his arms around his knees tightly. Arthur knew that he was many things: a bad friend, a bad brother, an even worse boyfriend, he was weird and immature at times, he was too uptight and held grudges for too long...but he wasn't a _murderer_.

Andrew observed Arthur's face as it contorted into pain and conflict; smirking, he took his cigarette and flicked it at the boy before him. Arthur choked and shuffled away quickly, feeling himself edging nearer and nearer to the end of the roof. The cigarette butt lay between them, singing slightly and Arthur brought his foot down to muffle the burning end quickly. Andrew just watched him, smirking and shaking his head.

"That twat," he said suddenly, making Arthur jump, "isn't my fucking dad. I don't have a dad. I don't even have a fucking mum, but we all know whose fault _that_ one is."

Arthur flinched as Andrew's acid-green eyes bored into his own. The blond Brit swallowed hard and shook his head. "N-No! That...it wasn't my fault. Cade said that it wasn't my fault! She was ill for ages!" he said desperately, his eyes wide and willing for Andrew to tell him the truth: that it wasn't his fault. It couldn't have been.

His older brother just sneered. "Really? And you believed such shit?" Andrew asked. "Don't make me fucking laugh. You're a fucking murderer and you are going to burn in hell for all the shit that you've put this damn family through!" His eyes were gleaming and sharp as he snarled at Arthur. Andrew had one hand wrapped around the drainage pipe and the other hand was pointing at Arthur in an accusatory fashion.

Arthur swallowed hard and shook his head. "'M'not a murderer," he muttered, green eyes flashing with anger and pain. "I never killed mum and I never meant to hurt this family." His voice grew stronger and more determined as he uttered each word. "Unlike you though."

Andrew blinked. "'Unlike me'? Are you fucking serious?" he asked in disbelief, quirking a brow and running a hand through his messy auburn hair.

"Yes, I am fucking serious!" Arthur spat back, clenching his fists and shuffled away from the edge slightly. "You're the one who broke this family apart! We were fine until you found yourself unable to control your stupid mummy-issues! You're the one who made everyone despise me! You're the one who drove dad away! You're the one who fucked everything up just as we were getting 'normal' again! I did nothing, it was all _you_!"

Andrew blinked. Arthur dared not to.

Within seconds, Andrew had pulled himself onto the roof and was looming over the small blond boy. Arthur gritted his teeth and he was forcibly yanked into the air, Andrew holding him up by the scruff of his shirt's collar. Arthur gasped and choked, clawing at Andrew's body and spitting out malicious words, hoping that Andrew would just get the message and_ leave him alone_.

"You ever say shit like that to me. You ever," Andrew said quietly, each word hissed out softly and accompanied by a sharp shake of the boy he was holding. "And I will personally end you. I will make your last days on earth make hell seem like a dream holiday. I will hurt you in way that you cannot even imagine. If you even _dare_ to think about uttering such bullshit to me and I will kill you. Do you understand me?"

His voice was so quiet and soft, yet Arthur could hear the faint quiver and anger beneath the words he spoke.

"G-Got it!" Arthur choked out, groping at Andrew's hands as he tried to force them open. Andrew sneered at him and dropped him roughly.

"And one last thing," he said, before kicking Arthur sharply in his hipbone. "I never fucking missed you." Andrew's eyes were clouded over and hooded. Arthur could almost see an indescribable emotion flicker over them before it vanished. Andrew's words though, were said with such confidence that Arthur couldn't find it within himself to disagree with his brother. Yet Cade's words haunted him and the blond Brit couldn't get them out of his head. "I never missed you. I never wanted you back. And I can't wait for when you leave again."

"R-Right," Arthur coughed, rubbing his hipbone and staring straight into Andrew's eyes. "I understand."

"Good." Andrew's whole demeanour changed; his acid-green eyes brightened and his smile turned wicked and sharp. "Then I hope you also understand that if you ever make Cade upset again, then I'll fucking tear you apart, got it? In fact, why don't you just fuck off and leave us alone. That will make everyone happier, yeah? Great."

Again, Arthur saw that conflicting emotion dance across Andrew's face before his brother covered it up. Andrew slid down the slope of the roof carefully and slung a leg over, his long lean body followed until Arthur could only see Andrew's head. The red-head smirked, sharp teeth bared in an intimidating manner before he left completely.

Arthur remained silent as he heard his brother stalk out of his room. He winced when he heard his door slam shut. The cold air bit into his skin once again; he hadn't noticed how the weather had just worsened, Andrew had just distracted him too much. Arthur considered going down to his room now, but his mind was still wary of Andrew's presence. Instead, he remained on the roof and just sat there, thinking.

He thought about how much he had fucked up with Francis. He thought about how much he fucked up with Alfred and Matthew and Lovino. He thought about Kiku and how his very presence around Alfred had tormented the Japanese boy. He even thought about Michelle and knew that he needed to talk to her about what really happened.

However, Arthur mostly thought about his family. His dead mother. His dad, who may or may not be a filthy cheating liar. Cade, who he had reduced to tears and knew that he had to resolve that relationship somehow. Seamus and Aislinn...it was his fault that they could no longer be together; they had been as thick as thieves when they were all younger and Arthur had ruined that. Then there was Andrew.

Then there was Andrew...

Arthur bit his lip hard, the taste of copper filling his mouth as he broke the skin. Andrew wanted him to leave.

Fine.

He was going to leave.

* * *

><p><strong>Ta dahhh~!<strong>

**I think that there will be...three, maybe four more chapters in this format? You know, the Arthur-Lovino-Matthew format? Then I think I'll change it up a bit before it gets too repetitive~! ^_^**

**Anyways, I wanna say thank you to: **_Scottiebeatleschicdonuts, Skye96, Lodella, Feline Alchemist, APH-Indonesia, KaiyoUchiha, DreamingDeity, CookieTower, 123LovelyInsanity321, Haluwasa2, ChibisforHetalia, ChidorixCixBritannia, Randomstrike, 25 to heroplz, OreoPandas, Little Contradictions, Chibi Russia-Kun, TheMostWonderfulTimeOfTheYear, Just A Girl With A Keyboard, APH1168kittens, YoungDragonQueen, mavisellediggs, Glowstick145, RomaniaBites, DrinkingAlcoholicRainbows, Bookworm24601, ChildishAdultery, alguien22792, Ellenthefox, Hinata28h, ms. nightshade, Pen Name Is Invalid, Musingsage, death2society, Chelseaj500 _**annnnd** _Mikadocon_**!**

**And special thanks to **_ms. nightshade _**for beta-ing my earlier chapters. BY THE WAY! I have re-written and edited all of chapters up to chapter eighteen. If you ever re-read this story, god knows why 'cause it takes forever, then you'll notice that I have taken bits out of the story and added little extra scenes in. Just to develop the story more and flesh it out. It's also more detailed concerning the apartments they live in and the Academy itself. I didn't do it to confuse people, I just wanted to bring my story up to scratch~! ^_^**

**Perty please review!**

**Love City Girl**

**x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x**

**P.S. - Why? Why do I keep typing 'Yaoi' whenever I type 'Yao'? This is awful.**


	20. How Things Fall Apart

**It took me FOREVER but here it is! ^_^**

**Ahem. So this chapter has royally pissed me off in more ways than one...I wrote it to numerous Homestuck soundtracks and the Orchestral Version of Lavender Town so...it probably is as depressing to read as it was for me to write. ^_^**

**Also, the time shifts may be quite confusing here as it changes...hope it doesn't deter anyone! ^_^**

**ENJOY!**

* * *

><p><span>Chapter 20 - How Things Fall Apart<span>

"Where the hell have you been?"

Matthew rolled his eyes as he closed the door behind him. "Hello to you too," he muttered as he slung his duffel bag onto the floor beside him. Alfred was stood in the middle of the room, hands on hips and a stern expression on his face. The American had stayed up for the majority of the night, waiting for Matthew to return from hockey practice. He still had a bone to chew with his brother as he still hadn't forgiven him for the argument they had.

"Seriously," Alfred stated, "where have you been? I was waiting for you to come back."

Matthew frowned. "I did tell you not to wait up didn't I?" he said, knowing full well that he had told his brother to not wait up.

"Actually," Alfred said, his glare deepening slightly, "you told _Kiku_ not to wait up. You never said anything to me."

Glancing over to him, Matthew blinked blankly and shook his head. "I said it to you both. It was a general comment that applied to both of you. You were just too dense to realise that. You probably weren't listening to me either," he muttered, attempting to walk past Alfred so he could enter the kitchen. However, a strong hand latched onto his wrist and held him back.

"I always listen to you dude," Alfred said, his blue eyes honest as he narrowed them. "And right now, I want to listen to you telling me where you went last night."

Matthew glared down at the hand that prevented him from escaping Alfred's persistent questioning. He knew how much Alfred disliked Ivan and he knew that if he were to tell his brother where he was last night, truthfully, then he was pretty sure that Alfred would try and bleach the 'communism' out of him. Or some stupid shit like that.

The Canadian snatched his hand back and frowned up at Alfred. "I went to hockey practice obviously," he said, annoyance glinting in his violet eyes. Alfred scoffed.

"Hockey practice doesn't last twelve hours," he said icily. "I'm pretty sure it doesn't even last _one_ hour. So, where did you go?"

Matthew quirked a brow. The tone Alfred had used was a tone that he hadn't heard in a very long time. In fact, the last time he had heard that tone was about eight years ago, when their parents got divorced. There were a couple of close calls where Ivan was concerned, but this was honestly the first time that such a cold tone had come from his brother's mouth.

It almost disturbed him. Almost.

"I was with...a friend last night," Matthew admitted, his brother's abrupt change in behaviour causing him to talk when he really didn't want to.

Alfred blinked and snorted. "A friend? I thought you got rid of them when you were suspended?" he said, making it increasingly difficult for Matthew to resist the urge to smack him upside the head.

"I am capable of having more than two friends Alfred," Matthew stated coolly. "Unlike some people, I don't need a lot of people paying attention to me in order to feel good about myself." Alfred narrowed his eyes at the passive insult.

"Are you implying that I'm some kind of attention-seeker?" he asked, and swiftly cut across Matthew when he saw his brother open his mouth. "Because I'm not. It's not my fault that I'm popular whereas you end up being known as that ghost-kid who no one remembers."

"Having over five hundred friends on Facebook does not make you popular," Matthew retorted, his violet eyes glazing over and darkening as his annoyance grew. "Especially when you don't even know four hundred and ninety-one of them!"

Alfred clenched his fists, lips curling back into a snarl. "Having just five friends doesn't make you popular either," he stated coldly. "Especially when two of those friends include your own brother and his boyfriend."

"Who said I even _wanted _to be popular? Being popular is...it's stupid," Matthew scoffed, shaking his head to emphasise his point. Why were they even arguing about this? What was the purpose of this stupid argument? Matthew sighed and decided that he really shouldn't question the things that arose between he and his brother anymore.

Alfred froze slightly at his words, a small frown appearing between his brows.

"It's not stupid," he muttered sullenly. "It's nice, you know, having a lot of buddies you can rely on. I get worried about you 'cause you don't have that many people. You just have two guys that you've alienated your ex-boyfriend, Kiku and me."

Matthew narrowed his eyes. "What's your point?" he asked, watching as Alfred shifted uncomfortably.

"Dude, you don't tell me shit. Seriously, you just bottle all your problems up and never tell me anything. So, I figured that you were probably unloading your shit to your friends and it made me feel kinda better. Like, at least you were telling someone about your issues...even if that someone ain't me," Alfred admitted, keeping his eyes averted as he stuffed his hands deep into his pockets. "And now you've gone and alienated everyone around and it..._worries_ me."

Alfred's face looked pained as he forced the words out. He really wasn't the kind of guy to talk about 'thoughts' and 'feelings'. Matthew blinked and frowned; just because Alfred was emotionally stunted really didn't give him the right to scold him like Matthew was some naughty five year old.

He sighed and rolled his eyes. "Why didn't you just _say_ that in the first place?" Matthew asked, shaking his head in exasperation. "Instead of insulting me and calling me out on my poor social status!"

"Because I don't know how to to talk to you bro'!" Alfred snapped back, finally looking Matthew in the eye. "The past few weeks...we've never spoken that much before then!"

"Oh, and I wonder whose fault that is," Matthew retorted, folding his arms. Absentmindedly, he wondered if Kiku was in and if the boy could hear them arguing. He would have to make it up to him somehow, if he could...

"Hey! Don't you go pinning all this shit on me!"

...maybe sewing Alfred's mouth shut would do the job? Kiku always appreciated peaceful and quiet moments when he managed to get them...

"Dude! You're at fault just as much as I am! It's not like you've ever gone outta your way to talk to me either!"

...or he could buy Kiku a Taser-gun or even a squirt gun if the first option seemed too violent. Maybe Kiku could use it to train Alfred to understand that sometimes his mouth really needed to keep closed sometimes...

"Oi! Are you listening to me?"

Matthew blinked.

"What?" he uttered intelligently. Alfred sighed and shook his head.

"Fuck it, it doesn't even matter anymore," he said, waving the issue away airily. Matthew narrowed his eyes; he knew that it did matter and that Alfred would probably bring it up at a later date, because stuff like this just ate away at him. His brother tried too hard at making people happy and just doesn't understand that sometimes, he makes other people unhappy in the process.

Matthew kept his mouth shut and decided to just let it go. He watched as Alfred rolled his shoulders back and chewed his lip, his brows furrowed in minor concentration.

"So, you gonna tell me who this 'mystery friend' of yours is then?" he asked lightly, cocking his head as he tried hard to repress the frustration from his voice. Matthew smirked and wondered if telling Alfred the truth and seeing his facial reaction would be worth the inevitable lecture afterwards.

"Oh, no one important," Matthew stated airily. "Just, you know, Ivan Braginsky."

...

...

...

_Yes_, Matthew decided,_ it was totally worth it_. He had finally discovered the way in which he could break his brother.

Alfred was just staring at him, eyes wide and full of shock, with his mouth gaping open. Matthew blinked and waved a hand in front of his brother's face. No reaction was gained. The Canadian swallowed hard. He seriously hoped that he hadn't permanently broken his brother. Kiku would be pissed. Arthur would kill him.

Although...his life would be a lot quieter and more peaceful.

_Ah, no! Can't think like that_, Matthew thought, shaking his head as he abruptly flicked his brother on the forehead. His thoughts always seemed to be violent for a couple of days after playing hockey. He would have thought that all of his aggression would have disappeared whilst playing the game.

Apparently not.

"Uh, Alfred? Hey...Alfred?" the Canadian piped up, tapping his brother's shoulder sharply. "Oh...have I really broken you?"

"Not yet." Alfred's voice sounded strained and Matthew gave a wry smile when he heard it.

"Alright then, now that I know you're still alive," he said cheerily, with a large fake grin, "I'm going to go and see what Kiku is making for lunch later. I know I just had breakfast, but I'm starving."

Matthew gave Alfred a small wave, an action that barely registered in Alfred's mind, before turning away towards the kitchen. He managed to get halfway there before Alfred came crashing back down to reality. A hand tightly gripped his left shoulder, and Matthew found himself spinning around and facing his brother once more.

The look on his face told Matthew that some shit was about to get flipped.

"Ivan Braginsky?" Alfred asked, his tone oddly calm for the look of distress on his face.

Matthew nodded silently.

"Ivan fucking Braginsky?" Alfred repeated, his voice getting louder and his question came out like a demand.

"Uh...yeah," Matthew supplied. Alfred's eye twitched and the Canadian braced himself for the storm that was about to hit.

"Ivan Braginsky? The Russian. The douche. The guy I used to date. The guy whose sister put me in hospital. The little fucker who has tried to simultaneously kill me _and_ kiss me at the same time. The number one prick of the world who ought to fuck off back to Commie-land before he ends up actually killing someone. That bro who really ain't a bro. That bastard who_—_"

"I made cry once? Yes, yes it is. Because there is only one Ivan Braginsky and there will only ever be one Ivan Braginsky in this entire world," Matthew cut across Alfred's rant before his brother started to get imaginative.

"Yeah! Thank fucking god for small mercies," Alfred snarled. "Why the hell would you hang out with him? And please tell me you at least made him cry again; I think I could handle this situation a little better if you did dude." Matthew wondered if Alfred was even aware of how stupid he sounded sometimes.

"No, I didn't make him cry. Actually, I spent the night and then had breakfast with his sisters. It was fun. I had fun," he stated, his tone indicating that this conversation better end soon, otherwise his hockey-stick was coming out and it was going to be intimately acquainted with Alfred's mouth if he didn't shut up.

"How can you have fun with_ Ivan Braginsky_? His sisters are fucking insane! Did you miss the bit where Natalia _stabbed_ me?" Alfred asked incredulously. "Do you even care about that?"

Matthew sighed. "She apologised didn't she? And Ivan's sisters are not insane," he paused and thought about Natalia for a second. "Well, Katyusha isn't insane anyway. And what have I said about saying nasty things about her anyway? Katyusha is a lovely girl, so be nice."

Alfred narrowed his eyes at his brother. "Oh sure, Katyusha is alright, but the other two! Fucking mental, I'm telling you!" he spat heatedly. "And you used to agree with me. Or did they just all out brainwash you?"

Matthew's eye twitched.

"They did, didn't they? Fucking brainwashed you with their Russian propaganda and now they've turned you against your own brother!"

Matthew scowled. "Kiku," he called out loudly, "come help me. Alfred's on his period."

His brother blinked and then snarled slightly, his expression faltering when he heard the soft footsteps of his boyfriend coming up from behind him. Alfred clenched his fists and reigned in the anger that he felt towards his brother, not wanting Kiku to have another reason to act funny around him.

The Japanese boy quietly approached them, his eyes flickering from one brother to the next with a slightly frown on his lips.

"What are you talking about?" Kiku asked, furrowing his brows. "Alfred doesn't have the necessary organs for him to be menstru_—_"

"That's not important!" Alfred interrupted quickly, and to Matthew's delight, he blushed lightly from embarrassment. "What is important is that Matthew has betrayed his family!"

Kiku blinked and turned to Matthew. The Canadian just slapped a palm to his face and sighed. "Cut out the dramatics Alfred, it's just embarrassing for everyone who's present," he sniped and Alfred stuck his tongue out at him.

"And, ah, how have you 'betrayed' your family?" Kiku asked, a small frown pulling on his lips as he tilted his head in confusion.

"By making friends. Because I can't have friends. Because I'm not _allowed_ to make friends. Because Alfred's decreed it as such," Matthew bit out between clenched teeth, fisting his hands tightly. Alfred spluttered and shook his head quickly.

"That's not what I meant! Make friends, go ahead, be friends with whoever you want! You just can't be friends with _him_!" he insisted passionately. Kiku sighed.

"Who is this 'him'?" he asked Matthew.

"Ivan Braginsky," the Canadian replied lightly.

"Ah," Kiku commented knowingly.

Alfred watched them converse with growing frustration. Why didn't they understand where he was coming from?

"Dudes! Ivan Braginsky is not just some guy you can make friends with!" he cut between them with his words, his eyes narrowing and flashing with anger. "He's not someone you should make friends with!"

Matthew scoffed. "Says the guy who dated him," he muttered darkly.

"Yeah, and look at how well that turned out!" Alfred snorted, folding his arms and looking down on his brother. "Look, it's great that you're making friends bro', really it is. But making friends with Ivan Braginsky is just something that I can't allow! He's fucking insane and he's gonna hurt you!"

"May I remind you that _I_ made _him_ cry? I can take care of myself! I have been doing so for the past few years," Matthew stated, his voice rising in volume and his throat began to ache from such usage.

Alfred blinked at his brother and then turned to face Kiku with a beseeching expression on his face. "Kiku, please make him see sense," he said. "Please tell me that you get where I'm coming from."

Kiku flustered slightly under such pressure and glanced away from Alfred's bright blue stare. "A-Ah, this might be a conversation that really shouldn't include me. B-But, let me just say that Matthew is old enough to make his own decisions. "

Alfred's face fell.

Matthew grinned triumphantly. "Thank you Kiku!" he exclaimed.

"But Ivan is_—_" Alfred started.

"My friend," Matthew finished, interrupting him swiftly.

"Yeah, but Ivan's_—_" the American tried again.

"Matthew's friend Alfred," Kiku stated. Matthew couldn't help but note that Kiku was finally using his forename and stifled the small smile that threatened to form.

"Fine!" Alfred snapped in frustration. "Be friends with the Russian bastard, see if I care! But don't come crying to me when he breaks your hand, or worse. Your very soul! But you can come running to me if you wish to hear a dozen 'I told you so's, got it?"

"I don't think it'll ever come to that," Matthew remarked dryly. "Even if it did, you would be the last person I would go 'crying' or 'running' to. So no need to worry, alright?"

Alfred huffed and blew out a strand of hair out his face with frustration. "It's my job as your big brother to worry dude."

Matthew stifled a snort. _Some big brother you are...you forget about me half the time. _"Well, I'm sorry to say that you've just been fired. New management just declared me as being fully capable of taking care of myself," he said. Alfred wrinkled his nose.

"Hanging around with Arthur and Lovino has made you...snarky. It's not good, bro," Alfred remarked. "I already have a snarkmeister for a best friend; don't need one for a brother as well."

"Yeah. As if you're actually _talking_ to your 'best friend'," Matthew stated, completing the dig at Alfred with air quotations.

"Whatever," Alfred muttered, turning to walk off with a frown. Kiku glanced over to him quickly and reached over to grasp the back of Alfred's shirt with a small hand. The American jerked backed slightly, turning around to quirk a brow at his boyfriend's actions.

"What?" he asked, watching as Kiku worried his lip.

"Alfred, I actually want to talk to you," the Japanese boy said, hesitantly reaching Alfred's eyes, "about Arthur?"

Matthew felt the atmosphere drop a couple of degrees as Alfred frowned, his eyes glazing over with confusion and frustration.

"Why do we need to talk about him?" Alfred asked. "We've already talked about him. That talk is over, dead, done for. That talk isn't even necessary anymore 'cause it'd been all talked out. That talk isn't even a talk_—_"

"Alfred," Matthew sighed. "Shut up and let your boyfriend speak for once."

Alfred opened his mouth to retort, but snapped it shut after glancing over to Kiku. His boyfriend's eyes were clouded over with slight hurt and determination and Alfred knew that it would be hard to get out of the situation unscathed.

"Thank you Matthew," Kiku murmured, keeping his eyes locked onto Alfred's. The American sighed and ran a hand through his messy hair.

"Listen, we really don't need to talk about him," Alfred insisted, but Kiku held up a hand to silence him.

"Yes we do, or rather..._you_ need to talk _to_ him," he stated, his lips firmly in a frown as he furrowed his brows. "I have been meaning to talk to you about this for quite a while, but I just haven't found the correct time."

"I need to talk to him? Are you serious?" Alfred questioned, his brows almost disappearing under his messy fringe. "I made you a promise and I'm keeping that damn promise! Besides...I will talk to him. Eventually."

His tone was getting darker and Matthew could almost taste the sulk within it. He sighed and shook his head. "You also made Arthur a promise. A 'best friend forever' promise, remember that?" he asked lightly, earning himself a dark glare from his brother.

"Yeah and I will keep it too! Just...I gotta do this Kiku! I hate it when you're upset with me and I just...I want to fix it!" Alfred urged, turning begging blue eyes to his Japanese boyfriend.

"It's already fixed," Kiku stated. "I have forgiven you; you no longer need to ignore Arthur any longer."

_Hmm...he's using Arthur's first name as well. Guess he's starting to lighten up_, Matthew noted. _I guess this would also be a good time to ask him about my...uh, problems. _The Canadian sighed and decided to keep quiet whilst his brother and his brother's boyfriend argued. Or rather, whilst his brother argued and his brother's boyfriend tried to keep the peace.

"It's not fixed!" Alfred retorted. "I can still see you flinch whenever I talk about the dude! Not cool."

Kiku sighed. "I am being honest. Please, just talk to Arthur."

_Yeah, like Alfred's gonna listen. Alfred never listens. He's just like Gilbert. The pair of them are just so alike; think that they can barge into anyone's lives and stubbornly stay there until they get bored and then waltz straight out without any regards to that person's feelings. I hate it._

"I will. I promise, I will. I just can't right now! I need to make sure that things are alright with you first," Alfred insisted.

"But things are fine between us. Or, at the very least, I think things are fine between us. Is there something wrong that you wish to bring up?" Kiku questioned, tilting his head as he regarded the American before him.

"No! There's nothing wrong at all going on!" Alfred cried out, making Matthew flinch with his excessive volume.

"Good," Kiku beamed, "then you can talk to Arthur."

"I can't!" The volume increased and Matthew resisted the urge to slam his hands over his ears, whilst simultaneously kicking his brother in the balls to shut him the hell up. _I need to stop hanging around guys like Alfred and Gilbert; it's not good for my_ _health_...

"You can and you should. You are probably hurting Arthur's feelings," Kiku commented. Matthew smirked.

"Yeah, not very 'friendly' of you, is it Alfred?" he piped up, inwardly laughing at the vein that throbbed in Alfred's neck whenever he got too frustrated. It was something that Matthew first noticed when his brother first started to date Ivan and it was almost, always amusing to see it once more.

"Shut up Mattie!" Alfred barked at him. "I am an awesome friend! I will totally make it up to Arthur after everything is over and done with."

Kiku furrowed his brows. "But there is nothing that needs to be 'over and done with'. Everything to do with our relationship is fine. The only relationship that needs repairing is the one between you and Arthur. Please Alfred, I don't like seeing my friends get hurt."

"Neither do I, but I hate seeing you get hurt even more!" Alfred said, before turning on his brother. "And don't you roll your eyes at me! You're just jealous 'cause I still have a relationship, whereas you just keep fucking up all of yours!"

_So what if I am jealous, _Matthew thought bitterly. "Looks like you'll be heading down the same road if you don't keep your mouth shut," the Canadian muttered. _And I don't keep fucking up my relationships...it was just Gilbert. And Arthur...and Lovino. And Lars. Oh...god..._

Matthew sighed and rubbed his temples.

"I am capable of handling myself dude, don't need your input thanks," Alfred stated.

Kiku frowned. "He makes a fair point thou—"

"Nope. His point is invalid. His point is out of date and no longer counts," Alfred stubbornly said.

"You're being so unfair," Kiku sighed, causing Alfred to freeze. The American frowned in confusion, hurt starting to blossom in his eyes.

"No I'm not," he replied. "I'm trying to be fair to everyone. Being unfair sucks and I don't want to do that."

"Intentionally, perhaps. But you're being incredibly, unintentionally unfair right now. Matthew is trying to help you and you're just—" Kiku cut himself off, feeling his face redden from the embarrassment of being so blunt and rude.

"I'm just...what?" Alfred asked. "What am I?"

"N-Nothing," Kiku said hurriedly.

Matthew rolled his eyes. They were so well-suited for each other.

"No, what am I?" his brother insisted.

"Please, it no longer matters," Kiku stated, keeping his voice calm as usual.

Matthew sighed and blew a strand of hair out of his eyes. Idiots. He was actually surrounded by idiots.

"Seriously though, what were gonna sa—"

"Nothi—"

"Hey Alfred, go away please. I need to talk to Kiku alone," Matthew piped up, cutting across the argument that just wouldn't die. Kiku blinked and glanced across to him. Alfred just huffed and stalked out, muttering under his breath as he did so. Matthew paid him no heed; his brother would probably just go and sulk it out, before bouncing back with everything forgiven and forgotten, until the next time someone brought Arthur up.

"Yes, what is it?" Kiku briefly watched Alfred leave before giving Matthew his full attention.

"I-I think..." Matthew trailed off, thinking of Gilbert and Lars. He swallowed audibly. "I think...I might need your help after all."

Kiku smiled. "Of course."

X-x-X-x-X

Arthur waited until all of his brothers had gone to bed.

He had stayed in his room for the entire day, only coming out when his brothers left the house and going back in when they returned. Cade had knocked on his door five times throughout the whole day, begging Arthur to come out and eat something...eventually he gave up, telling Arthur that if he needed anything then he only had to ask. It took all of Arthur's restraint to ignore Cade's pleading and to remain in his room.

When evening came, Arthur waited until everyone had retired to their rooms. Cade had knocked on his door one last time, before he gave up and whispered an apology to Arthur. What he was apologising for, Arthur didn't know and decided that he probably didn't _want_ to know, as the guilt inside of him already ached and tasted bitter.

He managed to stuff everything he brought with him in the two tiny suitcases that he had brought, finally cursing the fact that he decided to forgo clothing and cursing twice as much for not leaving any clothes behind when he 'disowned' himself.

Carefully, Arthur slipped out of his room, making sure not to make any sudden and loud noises that could possibly wake his brothers and reduce his little 'escaping' attempt as completely disastrous.

The young Brit swallowed hard as he maneuvered the two cases towards the stairs. He knew which ones creaked; which ones would give away his late night getaway. Slowly, Arthur lifted his baggage, thankful that his stuff was as light as it could get and made his way down. He narrowed his eyes in concentration. _Skip stair seven, miss stair four, dodge stair two and jump stair one._

Managing to stifle the triumphant smirk that threatened to form, Arthur made towards his front door. A small frown formed between his brows when he heard the rain and the thunder that came from outside. _A storm? Really? Tonight of all nights? How bloody brilliant. _Arthur chose to ignore how the storm oddly suited his situation and his feelings at hand, and wondered how quick a taxi would take to get to his house and drop him off at the small Premier Inn about five miles away.

_Bollocks._

He really should have planned this all out more.

Swallowing down his nerves, Arthur lifted up his suitcases and started towards the door. He would have to ring the taxi from outside, just in case he accidentally woke his brothers up with his voice. Quickly, so as to not waste any more time, Arthur made his way towards the front door.

He was so close to freedom. So close to getting away from the brothers who hated him, who lied to him and hurt him.

His fingers brushed against the front-door key that lay innocently on a table next to the door. Arthur stroked the rusted metal and felt his heart pound from within his chest. He lifted it up, feeling the coldness and the grittiness of the key to be almost soothing as he inserted it into the hole.

So close.

_Turn the key._

He was so close.

_Click._

So, so close.

_Now open!_

He just wasn't close enough.

"And where do you think you're going?"

Arthur felt his heart pound furiously in his chest as he jumped, dropping the key immediately. He took a deep breath and turned, almost quivering from fear as the person who owned the voice came into his line of sight. He guessed it was a blessing that it wasn't Cade who had caught him trying to leave. His older brother would have been devastated if he had been the one to discover Arthur trying to sneak out. The Brit knew that if it had been Cade, then he would have been guilt-tripped into staying with them for the rest of the two weeks.

Arthur figured he should also count himself lucky that it wasn't Andrew who had caught him.

He didn't even want to think about the scenario that could have occurred if _Andrew_ had been the one to discover him running away.

"I asked you a fucking question, now answer it!"

Arthur glanced up at the vicious tone of his brother's voice. Lingering by the bottom of the stairs, twirling an unlit cigarette around his fingers, was Seamus. Those toxic-green eyes were illuminated by the odd flash of lightning. Arthur licked his lips and steeled his nerves.

"I'm leaving," he stated, the words came out shaky and uncertain.

Another flash of lightning followed by a crackle of thunder.

His brother's eyes were practically _glowing_ by now.

"Leaving?" Seamus repeated coldly, inclining his head slightly. "You're...leaving? Again?"

Arthur gulped. "Y-Yes, I am. Again."

The atmosphere grew thick and icy, causing Arthur's throat to close up. The tension was killing him and the air of fury that Seamus almost radiated, made him want to run away and never look back. Fuck, it almost made him want to run away and straight into Cade's warm arms.

"You know," Seamus stated suddenly, cutting through the atmosphere with his sharp words. "I could have sworn that you said something similar a few years ago. Something about 'never, ever coming back' because you 'fucking hated it here'. Right?"

Arthur opened his mouth to speak, but Seamus glared at him suddenly, causing his mouth to close with a clack.

Not that Seamus needed to glare at him, for Arthur couldn't even find any words to speak.

He didn't know what to say.

He didn't know whether he should say anything.

Seamus carried on regardless.

"Then you left. You left and we honestly thought you'd never come back. You know, you made Cade cry. He fucking...shed buckets over you. For a week, he holed himself up in your room and would threaten to shank us if we even thought about touching your shit. He got over it though. We all did, 'cause we reckoned 'what's the point?' if you're never coming back?" he said, his voice calm as he spoke with a cold tone.

"Seamus, I_—_" Arthur started, but a hand held up by Seamus caused all the words in his throat to vanish.

"You said that you were never coming back. Then you did, _twice_. And yeah, okay, you didn't stay the first time but you're staying now, aren't you? Fuck, you have no idea...no fucking idea what you did to u_—_Cade. You just rose up ou_—_his hopes. W_—_he was so fucking happy that you were here. He was so _obsessed_ with you being back and fixing everything and making everything better," Seamus bit the words out, forcing each one through gritted teeth.

Arthur flinched each time he corrected himself throughout his speech and pretended that they didn't mean anything.

(However, he couldn't help but hear Cade's voice in his head, reciting the words that he spoke from their last conversation: '_Seamus cried because he felt like everyone was leaving him_'; Arthur bit his lip and tried even harder to ignore the feelings that those words incited.)

"Looks like all of his efforts were in vain, right? 'Cause here you are, _leaving_ again!" Seamus rose his voice and Arthur bit his lip, hoping that Andrew and Cade were deep sleepers and that the storm outside had created enough noise to muffle his brother's words.

A rumble of thunder reassured him slightly.

"Why? Why do you keep leaving?" Seamus demanded, his toxic eyes narrowed and Arthur found them to resemble two hard chips of ice. He tried hard to not look directly at them.

"I have to go," he croaked out, the lump in his throat making it hard to speak. He was confused; why did Seamus want him to stay?

He hated him.

They all hated him.

Cade...he couldn't have been telling the truth. He had been lying.

He was a liar, liar, liar, _liar_!

"No, you don't!" Seamus snapped, his words cracking through the air and lightning crackled through the sky.

Arthur clenched his fists tightly. All the pain he had suffered, all the agony, and the tears that he had shed due to the man before him. Due to people who lived in this house.

He had to go.

He couldn't stay.

He would die if he stayed.

He couldn't bear living in this environment any more.

He had to go, he had to go, he had to go_—_"I _need_ to go," Arthur stated, his eyes dry as he glared back at the man who hurt him so much. The man who shouldn't even care about whether or not he stayed. "I can't stay here. I hate it here and you hate it too!"

Seamus' body had gone rigid at Arthur's words. His muscles were tense and his expression had been wiped off into one of neutral indifference. Arthur could sense the anger radiating from him though. He could almost taste the fury and the frustration. He could almost hear a small voice, reminiscent of Cade's, telling him to shut the fuck up if he knew what was good for him.

"Then why are you still here then?" his brother asked him, his calm voice chilling Arthur to the bone. His eyes glanced up underneath his lashes, the beady black pupils piercing Arthur. Seamus' body was shaking and Arthur didn't know whether it was from anger or pain.

"W-What?" the younger boy croaked out, unsure as to what his brother actually wanted.

"Why. Are you. Still here?" Seamus repeated his question silkily, "I mean, if you hate living here so much, then fuck off. But don't ever come back, because if you do...if you even dare to think about coming back, I will fucking end you. Got it?"

Arthur gaped at him, suddenly feeling very unstable about what was happening.

"Good." Seamus smiled. "Now get out."

The younger brother blinked at his elder; his throat felt like it was constricting, his mouth was dry and his eyes were not. He didn't understand what was happening. Seamus had just been screaming at him just mere moments ago for leaving last time and now...now he was demanding that Arthur leave?

What was going on?

"I...what...huh?" Arthur stuttered out, face flushing for his lack of intelligent response.

Seamus snarled. "Get out. Get the fucking hell out of this house _now_! Get out! Get out! Get fucking out!"

Arthur had never seen his brother so wild before. Not even when Aislinn left. Seamus' eyes were flashing dangerously, his teeth were bared and his entire body was hunched, like a predator's before they attacked their prey.

And Arthur felt very much like an unlucky prey.

"Seamus," he whispered, horrified at what he was seeing.

At the mention of his name, Arthur's brother seemingly snapped. "No! You do not get to say _my_ name anymore! You are no longer my fucking brother, now get out of this damn house before I make you leave!"

Arthur blinked in shock, before narrowing his eyes in anger. "What the hell is wrong with yo—"

He didn't so much as see the vase hurtling towards him, as he did so much as _hear_ it when it shattered just inches beside his head.

Arthur's words died in his throat, his heart threatening to burst from the anxiety and fear that began to slowly build up. His large green eyes widened further when he saw Seamus pick up a candelabra. He quickly ducked down to avoid getting hurt and span on his heel towards the door.

"Get the hell out of this house!"

Yeah, Arthur was so sure that Andrew and Cade were awake now.

Forgoing his suitcases, Arthur wrenched the door open and sprinted out of the house. His brother's curses were lost amongst the sound of the rain pelting down and the thunder that rumbled above him. The small Brit ran down the shitty path of their garden and leapt over the small fence.

His brother's voice was nothing more than a whisper now, but Arthur could still hear the hatred and the disgust that his brother injected into his words before Arthur managed to get away. He still saw the manic look of loathing in his brother's eyes.

...

Or could he really call Seamus a 'brother' anymore?

After all, he made his point perfectly clear. As did Andrew. His family house was no longer welcoming estranged family members and Arthur guessed that this extended to his father as well.

_Fuck._ Arthur's eyes stung once more. Andrew was probably telling the truth about their father and that made the pain ache even more.

Then there was Cade...who had tried so hard to just _fix_ things and make them right!

God, Arthur really had fucked everything and everyone over...

He sniffed and continued to pound down the streets, his shoes sloppily hitting the pavement as he made his way desperately in the direction of where the hotel was. The hotel which was five miles away. A hotel that he would have to walk five miles to, in the middle of a stormy night.

He was all alone. He only had his phone in his pocket and a couple of tenners stashed in the back of his jeans. He was also a young, seventeen year old boy, walking down the dark streets alone. Anyone could take him if they wanted. Anyone could hurt him. Anyone could kill him or kidnap him or worse...

_Oh. God._

With the rain pouring down and all of his stuff still at his house, Arthur came to the conclusion that he needed someone to help him. He flipped out his phone and pressed the number one to call Alfred; he could count on his best friend to help him out, right? Even though Alfred wasn't really speaking to him, he could still hope that their promise still held true, right?

Arthur held his phone up to his ear and ducked into a nearby alley, waiting for Alfred to pick up. Arthur's heart thudded heavily in his chest and his throat constricted as the dialing tone kept going.

After a few minutes, Arthur heard the phrase, '_the person you're trying to call is engaged at the moment. Please leave a message or try again later_', and worried his lip. Arthur pressed the number one again, harder this time and waited again. The dialing tone carried on. The operator's voice spoke up and Arthur tried again.

'_The person you're trying to call is engaged at the moment. Please leave a message or try again later_'.

And again.

'_The person you're trying to call is engaged at the moment. Please leave a message—_'.

And again.

'_The person you're trying to call is engaged at the moment. Please—_'.

One last time.

'_The person you're trying to call is engaged—_'.

Uttering a noise of distress, Arthur collapsed against the wall, phone firmly in hand as he glared at his phone's wallpaper. It was a photo of Alfred and him at one of Alfred's parties last year. Arthur remembered the photo especially because 'Best Friend' by Toybox had been playing in the background. Arthur snorted; some _best_ _friend_ Alfred had turned out to be.

Sniffling, Arthur buried his head in his arms, feeling his body and mind grow colder as the rain above him became heavier. He didn't know what to do. He couldn't go home...not only would it be dangerous, but it would certainly be hazardous to his health too. His friends probably wouldn't help him out; Matthew and Lovino...they might still be pissed off at him. Kiku would help him out if he asked but Arthur didn't want to burden the Japanese boy with even more of his problems.

Alfred was too busy being Kiku's hero to be his hero; Arthur knew he shouldn't be feeling such bitterness over that fact. After all, Alfred was dating Kiku. It was only right that Arthur took the back-seat in Alfred's priority list. Still...it hurt to know that perhaps he wasn't all that important anymore.

He wasn't important to anyone anymore.

Except...perhaps...maybe...

Arthur glanced at his phone once more and briefly wondered if he was legitimately insane. He had to be if he was even considering ringing up...well, most people would consider him insane anyway, so it didn't really matter. Flexing his fingers to get some feeling into them, Arthur pressed the number two on his phone. He held the phone up to his ear and prayed that they would pick up.

_Beep. Beep. Beep. Beep_—"A-Arthur? Is this you? Hello, are you there?"

Arthur almost sobbed with relief.

"Fr-Francis? I need your help..."

X-x-X-x-X

Lovino was pacing in front of a door.

It was a door that he spent fifteen minutes pacing in front of. It was a door that he wanted to knock on, but then again, he really didn't want it to open either. Which was a cowardly way of thinking, true, but if there was one thing he was good at, it was being a coward. The Italian could feel his heart thudding low and deep in his chest as he thought about knocking on the door.

A door which led to his ex-boyfriend's apartment.

Antonio's apartment.

Antonio, who was probably buried deep within his covers and wondering what kind of shitty thing he must have done in his past life to have earned him such a shitty boyfriend in his current one. _He probably believes that he was Judas or something...fuck_, Lovino thought, not even bothering to rouse up the energy to snort at Antonio's predictability.

His pacing increased furiously.

He couldn't believe that Ludwig managed to convince him to talk to Antonio. Not even his friends could do that. Not even Feliciano, his own brother, managed to accomplish such a feat._ Hn, mental note: make up with Feli_, Lovino sighed and ran a hand through his hair. He had left Ludwig's apartment before he even managed to sneak a lousy sorry to his brother and knew that he ought to make up for that at a later date.

But first thing's first: Antonio.

Lovino paused in his pacing and glanced up at Antonio's stupid door. Jesus Christ, why was this so hard? It was a just a stupid door, how can it be creating such anxiety within him? _Okay...this is getting stupid now._ The Italian furrowed his brows and chewed on his lip as he mulled over his options in his mind.

On one hand, he could knock on the door and try to fix the shitty mess that he had created.

On the other hand...he could knock on this frigging door and fix the shitty mess that he had damn well created.

Lovino clenched his fists. He was not going to chicken out. He could just imagine the look on the German bastard's face if he retreated from his mission now. It would be a look that just screamed 'I am disappointed in you' and that was an expression that he barely tolerated from his Grandpa alone! He was going to talk to Antonio like the hot-blooded, gorgeous Italian _man_ that he was and he was going to...he was going...to...

Oh shit.

Lovino cursed himself. Sure, he was going to talk to Antonio and sure, he was going to fix things through, but he hadn't really planned out what to do after all of that. Did he an Antonio just get back together again and pretend that none of this happened? Or did they carry on, single and free from each other?

Oh god, he really hadn't planned this out all that well.

The Italian glared over to the door. He wasn't ready for this talk with Antonio. He wasn't ready to face him, in person.

He really couldn't. He didn't even know what to say? What could he say? A simple 'sorry' just wouldn't do; it would also be the lamest understatement of the century ever! Lovino clenched his fists and glared at the floor.

Right.

He wasn't ready.

He was just going to turn around and walk back to Ludwig's.

Then he was going to apologise to Feliciano, because that would be ten times easier than apologising to Antonio.

Then, and only then, he was going to sort out his shit and—

_Knock, knock!_

What the fuck! Lovino glanced up and saw that he had subconsciously raised his fist and had knocked on Antonio's stupid door. Oh no, this was awful! What the hell fist, what the actual hell? Didn't you know that your owner just wasn't ready to deal with all of this romantic crap, right now?

Oh.

Oh no.

Oh _hell_ fucking no.

Lovino watched with growing horror as the door opened and Antonio came into view. The Spanish boy looked tired and withdrawn; his green eyes were bloodshot and Lovino could see the bags that lingered under them. His hair was a mess and he was wearing some awful pajamas as well. He probably hadn't bathed in days and Lovino was sure that underneath all of those clothes was a skeleton just waiting to collapse.

Antonio was, in short, a mess.

And Lovino had never desired him more than then. Just seeing Antonio created urges within Lovino; urges that wanted him to throw his arms around the Spaniard and protect him from all the shit that the world would throw at him. If only he could protect Antonio from himself as well...

(It was funny that Lovino didn't really feel any anger towards Antonio anymore; he didn't feel any bitterness or spite...he just felt cold and empty and he wanted Antonio's burning heat to warm him up again and make him feel loved.)

"Lo-Lovino?" Antonio's voice was hoarse and his tone was wary, but god...oh god, was it beautiful to hear. "What are you doing here?"

The Italian licked his dry lips nervously and held up a hand to shush the Spaniard before him.

"Shut up. J-Just...be quiet. Let me say this now and just...listen, okay?" Lovino forced out the words, trying hard to not let his gaze waver or stray away from Antonio's. The Spaniard nodded silently, his mouth still agape in shock and his bright green eyes were wide and brimming with confusion. Lovino could see the small spark of joy though and it was that spark that allowed him to continue. "I was a dick. I know. I'm always...a dick to you. I get that and I'm...I'm sorry. I guess I'm not used to people being nice to me or whatever."

Antonio went to say something, but Lovino held up his hand and shushed him. "No, don't...don't say anything. Jesus, let me finish!" he snapped heatedly, making causing the Spaniard to blink and sigh, closing his mouth sharply with a _clack_. "R-Right. So, uh...where was I...oh. Um, I've always been second best. Feliciano was the one who always made friends, who always had his work cooed over by our family and he was always being complimented and loved and shit. Then there was me. I...I hate people. I've always hated people. I hate making friends and I definitely never imagined myself having a, uh, a b-boyfriend. Until you came along. And you, for some fucking reason, made me feel...loved. And I liked that. I liked that you made me your number one, instead of shunting me to second place in favour of Feliciano. I liked it. A lot. I r-really...I really liked being your boyfriend and I figured that we would be t-together for quite some time."

Lovino's face was flushed pink. Antonio's face remained perfectly neutral with a hint of shock in his eyes.

"But I screwed that up. Obviously. N-Not that you didn't have a hand in it, because you did. Bastard, I've lost count of the amount of times that I've said 'hey Toni, I'm veggie', stupid. Ah...y-you're not stupid by the way. Sure you're slightly dense and a little bit air-headed...but you're not stupid. I'm...sor— I'm sorr—dammit. I'm fucking sorry, okay? I'm sorry for doing all that stupid shit to you and I'm sorry for hurting you. But you started it so don't forget that! You shouldn't have said that shit about Feliciano to hurt me and you shouldn't have hit me too! But...I guess I kinda made it all even now, with all the shit that I put you through. So. I'm sorry. Got it?" Lovino had to spit out his apology. He wasn't used to apologising to people who weren't family and he certainly wasn't used to voluntarily apologising.

Antonio blinked at him blankly.

Lovino's chest was heaving slightly and his eyes narrowed at the lack of response.

"Well?" he demanded. "Say something at least!"

"O-Oh!" Antonio uttered, eyes widening slightly. "I wasn't sure if I was allowed."

"What?" Lovino asked, pinching the bridge of his nose in disbelief.

"Well you said I couldn't speak," Antonio pointed out, tilting his head slightly. Lovino flushed and started to splutter indignantly.

"T-The fuck? Forget about that," Lovino said. "Just...say something!"

Antonio hummed. "Like what?" he asked lightly.

Lovino scowled and glared heatedly at the Spaniard before him. "Like...what should we do now. I've said I'm sorry, now what?" he said, crossing his arms with a huff.

The Spaniard before him slowly nodded and bit his lip. "Oh. Well...it was a nice apology," he said as he played with the hem of his shirt nervously, "but...I'm can't accept it. I'm sorry Lovino."

He's...sorry.

He...can't accept it.

"Lovino?"

He...rejected him?"

"Lovino, are you okay?"

Sorry, Lovino isn't in right now; please leave a message or try again later.

"Lovino, I really am sorry," Antonio pleaded, his green eyes widening with regret shining in them. "I just...I can't."

_Beep._

_Beep._

_Beep._

"_What_? Well, why the fuck not?" Lovino exploded, his honey-coloured eyes darkening as his emotions started to build up.

"Well...I already knew that you wanted to apologise," Antonio said, shifting uncomfortable as Lovino's eyes widened with disbelief. "Francis said that Mr. Vargas gave him the message that you were sorry and that you wanted me to forgive you. And I would forgive you, I really would! I love you Lovino and I'm sure you still love me too. I mean, you must do if you were willing to give me a chance the other day and you're here apologising in person too! But...you see...I can't."

Lovino blinked.

Can't?

Antonio can't forgive him?

What the hell did that mean?

"W-What are you saying?" Lovino said, furrowing his brows and worrying his lip.

Antonio glanced at him apologetically. "I'm really sorry Lovi...but I can't forgive you. Gilbert said that it would be best if we were no longer together. He says it's safer for my health this way, whatever that means. Also, Mr. Beilschmidt called up my parents and they said that...that...you were bad for me."

Lovino blinked. "I'm...bad for you. Like what? A bad influence? Are you serious?" he demanded. He had met Antonio's parents once and had always assumed that they had liked him. Maybe this was an example of why assuming things made asses out of people.

"I wish I wasn't," Antonio murmured miserably. "They said that they wanted me to concentrate on my studies, rather than little romantic adventures that could ruin my future career prospects. They're only looking out for me."

"Yeah, sure," Lovino muttered bitterly.

Antonio's eyes fluttered over the boy before him. Lovino could feel those eyes; those beautifully bright, green eyes.

"I really am sorry Lovino," the Spaniard murmured once more. Lovino scoffed.

"Whatever," he sighed, before straightening up again. "Look, can't you just...accept my apology, without it having to mean that we're going out again. Like, just accept it and I won't bother you ever again, I promise!"

Antonio's eyes turned sad once more. "I wish I could," he whispered, "it's just that, if I accept your apology then I won't be able to resist the urge to accept being your boyfriend again. And I really, really can't do that right now. Understand?"

No.

Lovino didn't understand _shit_.

"Yeah. I got it," the Italian muttered, before a bitter chuckle escaped his lips. "Well, this has been a waste of fucking time. Guess I'll just see you around then, yeah? Or...maybe not." His tone was broken, but stubbornly held together by Lovino's pride.

Antonio nodded. "I hope I do see you again," he said softly.

Lovino just scoffed and shrugged. "Right," he muttered, before turning around and stalking off in the direction of the stairs. He could feel Antonio's gaze burning into his back. But he refused a second glance. He would not, could not allow himself to turn around and glance upon Antonio for one last time.

Instead the Italian stormed his way out of the building, already planning a way to murder his Grandpa and apologise to his brother.

He was also planning a way to forget about the incredible heartbreak that he was suffering.

God.

He hoped Ludwig had recorded '_The Devil Wears Prada' _like he had asked...

X-x-X-x-X

Antonio closed the door and smiled bitterly.

Turning, he leant the door and slowly slid down it, his body shaking and his hands clenched up tightly into fists. The other two occupants watched him as he did so, small frowns on their faces. Antonio didn't pay them any attention. He just sat there, legs tightly tucked under his chin and his arms wrapped around his shins. His body quivered and his short, gasping breaths could be heard in the heavy silence of the room.

"Toni? Are you...alright?" Gilbert asked awkwardly. He wasn't like Francis; he wasn't the type to go and hug someone who was crying. He was more of the 'fuck-them-now-go-find-someone-else-to-fuck' type. Antonio didn't answer him, he just buried his head in his arms and shook it quickly.

Francis sighed and walked over to him slowly. He ducked down and gently ran a hand through Antonio's hair. The Spaniard was warm but his body was shaking too much for Francis' liking. "Antonio, please say something. You're scaring us," the French boy whispered quietly, his hand never ceasing the strokes through Antonio's brunet locks.

The Spaniard choked and glanced up, his beautiful face twisted in an expression of pain and hurt. Tears slowly slid from his eyes and his lip was being to bleed slightly from how hard Antonio was biting it. "I-I...I love him!" he stuttered out brokenly as more tears fell from his watery eyes. "I love him so much!"

Francis' face broke as he wrapped his arms around Antonio's shoulders gently. "I know," he murmured. "I know."

"He apologised to me and he meant it! He honestly meant it Francis!" Antonio insisted as more tears fell down his face.

"I'm sure he did. And I know it was hard to reject him, but you had to. This whole thing is tearing you apart and it makes me sad to see you like this, _cher_," Francis said, tucking a lock of brown curls behind Antonio's ear.

"I still feel like I'm being torn apart though..." Antonio whispered.

The room fell into silence.

Gilbert glanced over to Gilbird and sighed, feeling somewhat to blame for Antonio's situation. "Come on Toni, go to bed. You might feel better in the morning, _ja_?" he called out, breaking the tense silence.

Antonio looked up and nodded. "Y-Yeah. Okay," he sighed, rubbing furiously at his eyes. Francis helped him to his feet and gently led him to his bed. The Spaniard was still quivering and Francis could sense the amount of pain that his friend was going through.

"Oh Antonio. It'll get better, I promise," he murmured, pressing a chaste kiss to Antonio's temple.

"I hope so," Antonio muttered in return.

"Yo Frenchy! You got a phone call," Gilbert called over to them. Francis glanced over to him and then over to his phone which was vibrating and lighting up on his bed. He nodded in acknowledgment and helped Antonio into bed.

The Spaniard slipped in under his duvet and allowed his aching body to just melt into the mattress. "Thank you," he whispered, making Francis smiled.

"Anytime," he replied.

The Frenchman tucked Antonio in sweetly, before switching his attention to his phone. He walked over to his bed, and felt his heart freeze inside his chest when he saw the name that his Caller ID was flashing at him. He answered it regardless.

"A-Arthur? Is this you?" he questioned quietly, to avoid rousing any suspicion from his roommates. "Hello, are you there?"

When Arthur answered back, Francis felt his heart break once more. He pressed the phone to his chest and glanced over his shoulder to Gilbert and Antonio. "I'm just going to step out for a bit, okay?" he stated. Gilbert shrugged and Antonio nodded.

The Frenchman then grabbed his coat and the keys to his car before slipping out of the room quickly.

Curling up on the bed, Antonio felt a cold hand ruffle his hair and the bed dip under an added weight. Cracking open his eyes, the Spaniard glanced up and saw Gilbert glaring out the window with a thoughtful expression on his face. The albino's eyes were narrowed and he was chewing on his lip whilst his hand remained deep in Antonio's locks. He looked...troubled almost.

"Gilbert?" Antonio called out quietly. The German glanced down at him and smiled weakly.

"_Ja_, what is it Toni?" he asked, ruffling up the messy brown hair once more. Antonio licked his lips and shifted slightly, so he could see Gilbert better.

"Thank you," the Spaniard said, "for looking out for me."

Gilbert blinked when Antonio pressed a warm kiss to his wrist before rolling over so he could sleep. The German furrowed his brows and sighed deeply. His friend was just too sweet for his own good. He removed his hand from Antonio's hair and rubbed the place where the Spaniard's lips had just been. Antonio was a good friend and a nice person.

And Gilbert felt incredibly guilty for making him cry.

"Shit," he muttered and ran a hand through his hair. "I'm sorry Toni...you could have fixed your issue with that Italian brat by now. But I just fucked it up even more for you." Gilbert clucked his tongue and moved away from Antonio's bed to collapse on his own. "You don't even blame me either...I'm a shitty friend who gave you some shitty advice and you followed it. And you _thanked_ me for it."

Gilbird noted the sad tone in Gilbert's voice and nibbled his ear gently, cooing softly to cheer him up. Gilbert just sighed and stroked the bird's feathers softly, wondering how he could make it up to his Spanish friend and make it up to his ex-boyfriend as well.

_Can't exactly do it on my own though_, he mused as he ran his fingers down Gilbird's chest. _I do know someone who would just_ love _to get involved though._ A small smirk grew on Gilbert's lips as he reached over to his bedside table and picked up his phone.

He ran his fingers over the buttons and sighed. He had six people of speed-dial. Matthew was number two and Gilbert wondered if that was part of the problem. That Matthew had been made number two in his life, rather than number one. Number three and four was Antonio and Francis respectively. Number five was his brother and number six was his dad.

Number one though...well, she was a special case.

Pressing the number, Gilbert held the phone up to his ear and smirked down to Gilbird. The dialing tone commenced before getting cut off shortly by a rather curt, _"the hell do you want?" _greeting.

The albino grinned and chuckled.

"Nice to hear from you too. Anyway, remember that favour you owe me from two years ago? Yeah yeah, I'm finally calling you up on it, 'cause babe? I am in some pretty dire shit and I need your help..."

* * *

><p><strong>So yeah. Drama and angst, all neatly rolled up into one little package with a sweet red bow to top it all off.<strong>

**Hope you liked it. Anyways, thank you to:** _PepsiLover049, lunereclipse, S. B, Dyloa, TheKazemaruSiblings, DanieSora, UchihaMonster, AsianIggs1, SilentVocaloid, BurningPyre, xXIceXxShatteredXx, Lodella, SakuraMoriChan, lpo, enzerukage loves hetalia, erin-flight, PinkHoney, YAOIfangirl1996, Chibi Russia-Kun, RomaniaBites, invading your vital regions, le gasp, 25 to heroplz, FalalalaLa, APH-Indonesia, ChidorixCixBritannia, Misery Inkwel, YoungDragonQueen, Jetsir, Mystic Dewdrop, Miggery, TigerlilyandHummingbird, Yami-no-Hikari-7, flames04, Fandals, Lavender Kiss, alguien22792, Hinata28h, emz and bellz, couTokki, Silvereyedfreak, skribble-scrabble, Glowstick145, Nevertrustaprussian, Chelseaj500, Just A Girl With A Keyboard, theredcoon, ms. nightshade, Scottiebeatleschicdonuts, Skye96, Lovelyinsanity istolazytologin, Gilraen Elensar, DreamingDeity, MoonxStar, Mikadocon, ChibisForHetalia, TinaBanina96_ **annnnd**_ KaiyoUchiha_**~!**

**Also, the next update may take some time again, as I'm going on holiday to New York~! ^_^ So, fingers-crossed that the next update won't take longer than two months again! ^_^ Also...I'll start answering reviews again soon. Sorry that I haven't been doing that lately!**

**Ahem.**

**Perty please review! ^_^**

**Love City Girl**

**x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x**

**P.S. - One last thank you to EVERYONE who has followed me on Tumblr! It's been fabulously fun so far~! xxx  
><strong>


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